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This message #97: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Somewhere Over the Rainbow, or When Villains Picnic was posted by It's been a while since the Hooded Hood did one of these stories, so your comments would be especially appreciated. Let's get that chatter going out there folks! on Saturday, February 16, 2002 at 18:44.
#97: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Somewhere Over the Rainbow, or When Villains Picnic
Previous stories at The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom
Character profiles at Who's Who in the Parodyverse
Other useful things in Where's Where in the Parodyverse
*
The Alliance of Freebooters, Space Pirates, and Interstellar Slimeballs manoeuvred their ships into attack formation and made their final run.
“Make it good boys an’ blow her to hell!” Peg-Nose Peeter shouted over the comm-link as the three dozen mismatched vessels burned down towards their target.
“Right,” the defender warned them. “You asked for this.”
A shimmering blue bolt hammered through the mid-section of the lead spacecraft, blowing out the whole side of the ship before the vessel exploded in a silent plume of flame.
“Target! Target! Blow it up!” Peg-Nose shouted.
The defender blurred impossibly fast and seared another ship out of the skies.
“Co-ordinate!” Peg-Nose ordered. C’mon. it’s only one f…”
Then Peg-Nose Peeter was nothing but a footnote in the interplanetary bad-guys hall of infamy, and his spacecraft was a spray of free-floating debris.
“Pull off. Pull off! Get away,” another of the pirates shouted, just before another of the blue flares detonated his deep-space engines.
“I warned you this place was off-limits,” the Pegasus called after the fleeing armada. “And stay away.”
*
The Lair Legion line-up debate was into it’s fourth week and showed no signs of conclusion. Flapjack climbed his way over the stack of pizza boxes and empty cola cans to join the leaders of the team in the Lair Conference Room.
Fin Fang Foom was staring at a blackboard which had three dozen or more names written, crossed out, grouped, regrouped, and in some cases circled in red chalk. “So if we redesignated the League of Regulars as the West Coast Lair Legion and made CSFB! our special field agent in charge of comics books, then we could fit in Sersi every alternate Thursday…” he was muttering.
Flapjack cleared his throat, which was never an attractive occurrence. “Excuse me, masters, but there’s an extradimensional tyrant at the door who says he wants a word with you.”
Hatman, Goldeneyed, and Sorceress looked up sharply. “What?” Hatty demanded.
“At the door, masters. He’s demanding to meet the Legion.”
“Check the security boards,” Finny ordered G-Eyed. “Hat, who do we have on standby?”
“We can have Donar, Dancer, Enty, and Exile here in ten minutes,” the capped crusader reported, reaching for his Jets cap ready for action.
“Whoever is at the door, he’s got energy readings approaching cosmic scale,” G-Eyed warned. “And he’s leaking some kind of… anti-energy that the sensors can’t get a lock on.”
“Right,” determined Finny. “I’ll take the frontal assault, Hat covers my tail and G-Eyed gets ready with manoeuvre 7-delta…”
“Boys, boys,” the Sorceress called to them. “You’re forgetting something. He rang the doorbell. He’s here to see us.”
“It could be a trap,” Goldeneyed warned. “Only a madman would ring our doorbell.”
“Well as a strategy, how about we have Flapjack invite him in and offer him a coffee?” Whitney suggested.
Hatman forced himself to relax. “Well, I guess we could hear what he’s got to say. Who does he claim to be, Flapjack?”
The Lair Legion’s hunchbacked major domo shrugged. “Some bozo called Anihillatus, Lord of the Negativity Zone,” he reported.
*
“You were three minutes late with the Skunk Polyp Removers,” Miss Framlicker scolded Nats, the Interdimensional Transportation Corporation delivery boy.
“The Skree fleet tried to wipe me across the galaxy,” Bill Reed objected. “They were aiming flaming asteroids at me. It was like an eighties video game flashback!”
“We still got penalty clauses,” scowled Miss Framlicker. “You can’t let yourself get distracted by trivialities.”
“The Public Accosters wanted to nail my… wanted to nail some parts of me to their Tower of High Justice!” Nats reported.
Miss Framlicker considered this. “I see their point. Anyway, don’t do it again. Now come and meet the new client.”
Burning with the unjustness of life, Bill followed the white-coated woman into Mr Limpqvist’s office, where the Manager of ITC was entertaining a pair of visitors. “Ah, Miss Framlicker, Mister Reed,” Limpqvist called, mincing over to pour them drinks. “I was just wondering if you were free!”
“Hello, Nats,” one of the guests called out. “Good to see you again.”
“AG!” the flying phenomenon smiled, recognising the guardian of the universe, Amazing Guy. “Hi! What brings you here.”
“Actually, Amazing Guy was kind enough to bring me,” the other visitor explained. He seemed to be a human-sized fat frog in a tweed suit. “You must be the new bearer of the Psychostave. I don’t suppose you’d just let me dissect it – you - for a little while… no, no, I suppose not…”
“Er…” Nats said, clutching the walking can he had recently acquired. He knew little of the arcane science used by the Second Oldest Race in the universe to create the device which amplified his psychokinetic powers, but he instinctively felt that dismantling it would be a bad idea. He knew being dismantled himself wasn’t a good choice.
“This is Doctor Blargelslarch of Frammistat Eight,” AG explained.
“Frammistat Eight!” Nats gasped. “That’s the home-base of the Slimy Slave Lovetoad!”
“We are not all Slimy Slaver Lovetoads on Frammistat Eight,” scowled Dr Blargelslarch, his buggy eyes popping at Bill Reed. “Some of us are serious scientific researchers. I am here on behalf of the Cosmic Remnants Archaeology Partnership, for example…”
“CRAP?” Miss Framlicker noted.
“We are considering a different designation,” Dr Blargelslarch answered primly. “It has been in committee now for some time.”
“About thirty years,” AG added helpfully. “Anyway, CRAP want to investigate some ruins and need to post a legal document, a notice of intent there, and I thought of you guys.”
“What, we just have to put up a poster, that kind of thing?” shrugged Nats. “Sounds pretty simple.”
“You haven’t heard where this is yet,” Amazing Guy warned the aerial adventurer.
*
“Thanks for coming together so quickly,” Goldeneyed told the little group he had assembled in the Lair Legion Living Room. “Finny and the others are busy sorting out their new line-up so he asked me to lead this mission. I guess I’d better introduce our visitor…”
“I am Anihillatus, Lord of the Negativity Zone, commander of the infinite forces of ultimate destruction, and master of all the realms from the Queasy Area to the Babbling Fields! I am here to warn you that I shall destroy your puny planet and render it to space dust if you do not redress the wrong done to my realm by your denizen. You have been warned!”
“Er, yes, like I said, this is Anihillatus,” G-Eyed continued feebly.
“Hi there,” Ziles smiled brightly.
“Fascinating,” Al. B Harper noted. “Some kind of insectoid colony creature with developed cosmic manipulation abilities?”
“This art not the time for analysing the felon,” Donar Oldmanson suggested. “Now art the time to be kickething his asseth.”
“Anihillatus is here under a truce,” G-Eyed intervened quickly. “He’s come to ask for our help in getting rid of an… um, an Earth-related problem that has cropped up in his Negativity Zone.”
“Or I shall annihilate you all,” the insectoid tyrant screeched.
“What kind of problem?” Ziles wondered.
G-Eyed clicked the remote control on the big monitor screen. After a short break he found some batteries for it. Then he took CSFB!’s video tape out and quietly burned it. On the third attempt he managed to show a picture of an attractive brunette. “Her,” he answered.
“She’s cute,” Al. B observed.
“She art familiar,” frowned Donar. “I hast seen her beforteth, methinks.”
“Yep,” agreed G-Eyed. “Like this.” Now the monitor screen showed a beautiful white winged horse trailing stardust behind it.
“Pegasus!” Ziles remembered. “We met her in Greece and India.”
“Aye. She art oftentimes encountered as one of the terrible Scourge,” Donar remembered. “Or at one of Lisa’s parties.”
“She’s a girl who turns into a flying horse?” Al B. Harper surmised. “Hmm. I wonder what the metabolic mechanism for that is?”
“As far as we can tell, she’s a creature from Myth,” G-Eyed explained, holding up the dossier that Hatman had given him. “She can take the form of a human woman, a winged human woman, or a winged horse. In all her forms she can throw around big blue cosmic zap-bolts, and the more time she has to form them the more powerful they are. She can survive in vacuum, she can regenerate any wound, she flies pretty good, and in horse form she can fly at faster than light speeds over interstellar distances.”
Ziles checked the file. “Also she likes sushi, hot-tubbing, and men who make her laugh,” she noted.
“And,” added Anihillatus, “she must be destroyed.”
*
Chronic was busking for money. More technically, he was playing his guitar outside people’s shops until the shopkeepers paid him to move away. For an extra gratuity they could pick which store he moved in front of next.
All in all it wasn’t a bad day until a distracted-looking man in faded red robes tossed an Atlantean demi-crown into his hat and said, “Ah there you are. I believe you owe me a favour. Come with me.”
Chronic vaguely recognised the supposed sorcerer supreme of the Parodyverse, Xander the Improbable. “Huh?” he objected looking round in alarm. “Me? I hardly know you. I don’t owe you anything.”
Xander peered over his spectacles at the duster-clad musician. “Young man, I wasn’t addressing you. I was speaking to Steve.” He sniffed and shrugged. “Ah well, I suppose you can come along as well if you insist.”
*
“So this is the Negativity Zone,” Nats commented, floating in the surprisingly breathable atmosphereless void and looking at the lurid purple horizons. Little inexplicable black energy bubbles rippled through the plane.
Amazing Guy summoned up his quantum manipulation powers and created a transparent plasmoid bubble around himself, Nats, and Dr Blargelslarch. “This should help us get there in style,” he grinned. He tuned his cosmic senses to determine what constituted up in this baffling new landscape and then propelled them onwards.
Blargelslarch was consulting a portable detection unit and croaking excitedly to himself. “That’s it. that’s it. We should be able to see it any moment now…”
“I can see why he’s so hot for this project,” Bill Reed told Scott Brunsen, “but why would Amazing Guy help him out?”
AG shrugged. “I guess it’s just good to see somebody who enjoys their work so much. And also… Eggo, the Living Waffle, the cosmic being who appointed me Protector of the Parodyverse kind of told me the universe would be destroyed if I didn’t go with him.”
Nats considered the new information. “And when were you planning on mentioning this?”
“There!” Dr Blargelslarch called out. “It’s there on that asteroid!”
Suddenly Nats and AG saw it. It was five miles long, a carved stone box covered in geometric carvings. On one surface some ramshackle buildings of a different material clung to the structure like barnacles. It had an aura of power, a palpable presence which tugged at the mind. But none of that was the first thing that the heroes noted.
“It’s shaped like a giant coffin,” Nats observed.
*
Goldeneyed, Donar, Ziles, and Al B. stood on the bridge of the Locustship Crimes of Rage and looked out at the thousand other locustships waiting to do the bidding of Anihillatus, Lord of the Negativity Zone.
“I don’t get it,” Ziles protested. “If bug-king here’s got this much firepower why does he need us to take out poor Pegasus?”
“The fleet isn’t to battle that meddlesome horsewoman,” Anihillatus frowned. “It’s to destroy your planet if you fail to vanquish her.”
The hemigod of thunder made a rumbling noise at the back of his throat. “I art not good at taking threats,” he advised.
“Why is Pegasus protecting that big piece of space-junk anyway?” Goldeneyed asked quickly before Donar and Anihillatus started whipping out their manhoods and measuring them. “It’s just a big rectangular… giant coffin-shaped stone thing.”
“He’s not the only one interested,” Al B. Harper warned, looking over a bug-warrior’s shoulder at the bridge instrument readout. “There seems to be an armada of pirate vessels on the other side of that artefact, although they’re keeping a respectful distance.”
“It is my property,” Anihillatus insisted. “It appeared in my domain, and therefore it is mine!”
Al B squinted harder and elbowed the bug out of the way so he could fiddle with the controls to his satisfaction. “I’m also reading a fast-incoming object at trans-light speed heading straight at…”
The locustship next to the Crimes of Rage exploded in a ball of fire.
Pegasus had arrived.
*
“This sucks!” complained Chronic.
“That is because it is a bog,” Xander explained helpfully. “The Wookiegetlucky Swamp to be precise. I’d leave that boot if I was you. I don’t think you’d want it back now anyway.”
“This is whack,” the guitarist continued, trailing behind the mage and trying to wring out a soaking sock. “How can Steve owe you a favour anyway? He’s a guitar.”
“I could tell you,” Xander offered, “but then you’d owe me a favour as well.”
Chronic swore under his breath.
“Ah, here we are,” the master of the mystic crafts announced, stopping abruptly in a soft bit of swamp identical to every other soft bit of swamp. “This is where we meet him.”
“Meet who?”
Then the weeds and algae atop the treacherous waters bulged and a man-shaped creature oozed from the seething foetid mud. “Him,” Xander answered cheerfully. “The Guardian of the Nexus of Unreality. A ghost wrapped in swamp-stuff. The Bog-Thing.”
*
The rainbow streak shattered through the next locustship and hairpinned round to orient on the Crimes of Rage. Goldeneyed decided enough was enough and teleported Donar into her path.
“Ho, Peg….!” Donar began before the impact of a near-light-speed equine releasing a cosmic-level power discharge took the wind out of him.
“Do something!” screeched Anihillatus as she oriented back on the flagship. “Do something of start liking your planet crispy fried!”
“Don’t worry,” Ziles assured the insectoid. “We’re onto it.”
“Right,” Al B. Harper agreed, frantically hacking away at the ship’s computer. “Just give us a few minutes.”
“Don’t worry if Donar looks like he’s had an accident with a food mixer and an explosives dump,” Ziles assured the Lord of the Negativity Zone. “He fights best like that.”
“Standeth still and be smited!” the hemigod was roaring.
“Don’t worry, big guy!” G-Eyed assured him. “I think I’ve got this now.” And with a golden flash he teleported onto the winged horse’s back.
Briefly.
*
“There’s definitely something going on over there,” Amazing Guy worried, glancing at the distant flashes of blue light and thunder. “I’m sensing a discharge of energies on the cosmic scale.”
“First rule of delivery,” Nats instructed him. “Don’t get involved. Just see it as a chance to get in, get the job done, and get out while the locals are killing each other.” He used his stick to propel AG’s bubble down towards the makeshift housing atop the floating mystery.
“This is fascinating,” Blargelslarch muttered happily. “Fascinating! Some kind of funerary monument do you think? Something for a dead god perhaps?”
“Urk,” Nats answered. “Let’s just post this legal notice and then… hey, there’s people down there!”
Amazing Guy focussed on the refugees who were fleeing from their descent. “Dozens of different races, if I’m reading this correctly. There are Xnylonians, Maxellians, Thonagians, She-Yar, Deegans… even Skree and Skunk together! And they’re all wearing some kind of robes.”
“That would be the Celestian cult,” Doctor Blargelslarch noted interestedly. “Space Robot worshippers. I thought they had died out centuries ago. This is absolutely amazing. Perhaps they carved this monument?”
The three explorers landed on the surface of the artefact. It was cold to the touch, and strange alien thoughts flickered across their minds as they came into contact with it.
The psychostave starred humming.
“I don’t like this,” Nats worried. “Let’s just post the notification and go.”
“The committee will be amazed at this. Amazed,” Blargelslarch beamed, looking round at the abandoned dwelling that the worshippers had fled. “Anthropological and archaeological revelations in one. Our sponsor will be delighted.”
“Sponsor?” AG frowned as Nats affixed the notice. “You have a sponsor?”
“Of course,” Blargelslarch nodded. “You don’t think extradimensional research projects come cheap, do you? No offence to ITC but…”
“What kind of sponsor?” Scott Brunsen insisted.
The notice that Nats had posted started glowing, the letters burning with the light between dimensions. Suddenly it burst in a brilliance that temporarily blinded the heroes.
When they blinked their vision back they saw C.R.A.P.’s secret backer, the one who had paid for them to deliver the dimensional conduit gaining him access to this artefact. “That would be me,” Kink the Conqueror, time-travelling megalomaniac announced.
His fifteen thousand shocktroops unshouldered their energy weapons, pointed them at Nats and AG, and agreed.
*
“Come on, guys!” Goldeneyed encouraged his team. “This is Pegasus. We beat the whole Scourge dozens of times. We can take her on her own easily.” He teleported just in time as blue energy seared through where his stomach would have been.
Pegasus was in her winged woman form just now, since it gave her more manoeuvrability and better targeting. “Back with the Scourge I wasn’t using my full power,” she cautioned them. “It would have been cheating. But this is important.”
“What is?” asked Ziles. “Why are you doing this?”
She gestured to the artefact. “I’m protecting that for the Constellation. The fate of the Parodyverse depends on… What the hell is going on over there?”
With a rainbow blur and a shimmer of stardust she abandoned the battle to see what Kink the Conqueror was doing on her artefact.
“You failed!” Anihillatus shrieked. “She’s getting away. That does it. My legions, destroy the Earth!”
There was a whine of dimensional engines charging up, misfiring, and going into meltdown due to software problems in their computer control systems.
“Told you we were working on ways to deal with the situation,” smirked Al B. Harper.
*
“Lord Kink!” Doctor Blargelslarch croaked in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you here with so many… history enthusiasts.”
“History enthusiasts my butt!” snarled Nats. “Kink the Conqueror fooled us into bringing this paper here so he could somehow use it as a gateway to bring his armies to claim this whatever-it-is!”
“Correct, primitive fool!” the purple-armoured general preened. “How could I allow this opportunity to pass? Hence I leaked information to bring the Alliance of Freebooters, Space Pirates, and Interstellar Slimeballs and the legions of Anihillatus into play to keep the current guardian of this site busy and arranged for C.R.A.P. to deliver a disguised temporal conduit through the defences so I can claim this site.”
Blargelslarch looked shocked. “Sir, I must tell you that the Cosmic Remnants Archaeology Partnership must revoke your patronage and return your donation,” he told Kink.
“Idiot! Who do you think founded your damned intellectuals club?” boasted the villain.
“We were founded over three hundred years ago,” prickled the doctor.
“What part of ‘time traveller’ don’t you understand?” demanded the conqueror. “But even as a time traveller I have no time to bandy words with nonentities like you. I must claim the Sepulchre. Slay them, my legions.”
Amazing Guy protected the explorers from the first barrage of attacks with a quantum barrier. “Ouch!” he complained. “They’re using accelerated tachyons. I can’t shield us from this for long.”
“You don’t need to,” Nats promised, pointing his psychostave at the army and mentally pushing. A thousand warriors were swept off the artefact and into space as if swatted by a giant hand.
Kink turned his ultronic-diode-blast upon the heroes and suddenly AG and Nats was three years old, wearing short pants versions of their usual uniforms. Blargelslarch was a tadling.
“Kill them now,” he ordered his remaining legions.
“Aw, but sir, they’re so cute… Er, yes sir.”
*
“Something’s going on down at the artefact,” Parrot-Polyped Paul frowned at his fellow Space Pirates. “Someone’s trying to take the prize from us. Attack!”
“Ho, Space Felons! Surrender and face destruction at the hands of Mjalcolm’s wielder, the hemigod of thunder!”
“Er, isn’t that surrender OR face destruction?”
Donar smiled nastily and the thunder began.
*
The Pegasus shimmered down towards Kink discharging a spread of wide-burst cosmic blasts to scatter his forces off the side off the Sepulchre. Gravity wasn’t too strong on the artefact anyway, so a good explosion could send the soldiers flying away into the purple-pink void.
Kink readjusted his ultronic-diode-beam and fired it straight at Pegasus.
She didn’t blink. Instead she hammered into the conqueror, maxxing his personal force shields as she almost-literally kicked like a mule. “I was this age a thousand years ago,” she warned the startled conqueror, “but thanks anyway.”
“Horse lady,” gurgled Nats.
“My Little Pony!” screamed AG, reliving some personal childhood nightmare.
“Please tell me that isn’t Nats and AG regressed to two year olds,” G-Eyed said, teleporting in with Ziles and Al. B.
“It isn’t Nats and AG regressed to two year olds,” Ziles assured him. “I’d say they were about three.”
“Wanna potty!” Nats announced.
“Do not look at me,” Ziles insisted, glaring at Al and Bry.
“Aw. Too late!” continued Nats.
“Incoming locustship fleet!” G-Eyed suddenly noticed. “Gotta go deal with business. Back later.” And he flashed out to take on the hordes of Anihillatus.
“You people!” shouted Pegasus, still hammering away at Kink’s defence screens. “Why can’t you all just leave us alone! We won’t be here long. It’s just a good stopping point for the Priesthood! But no, you all get so flaming territorial, as if space isn’t infinite anyway!”
“Well that’s an interesting point,” Al B. Harper agreed. “If space is infinite but matter and energy are finite, then logically…” He spotted the angry winged woman glaring at him and shimmering with blue cosmic power. “I see your point, yes,” he agreed hastily. “Ma’am.”
Ziles had slipped into the ramshackle shantytown. It didn’t take her long to locate a hiding priest. “Okay, do you want to tell me what’s going on here?”
“It’s a miracle,” the frightened man from the planet Beatit told her in wondering tones. “Just when it seemed that the Sepulchre would be captured by the ungodly, our prayers were answered and the Constellation sent us a champion to protect us.”
“Pegasus?” Ziles checked. “So she may not be the bad guy this time. She said something about working for the Constellation, whoever they are. And what is this Sepulchre? Some kind of tomb? Who’s in there?”
The Space Robot worshipper sighed in blissful joy. “Why this is the very resting place of the Dreaming Celestian,” he answered.
*
Kink the Conqueror was beaten and he knew it. His force-shields were crumbling and he had a nasty idea that Pegasus hadn’t vowed never to take a life. But he was a really bad loser.
“Right,” he screeched. “That’s it! if I can’t have this thing, then nobody gets it!”
“It’s mine!” Anihillatus shouted, tumbling onto the battlefield as he wrestled with Goldeneyed.
“Then so are these,” Kink hissed, time-shifting out with his remaining battered troops but leaving behind three dozen nuclear devices in their place.
“Crap!” Al B. gasped as he recognised the problem. “I’ve got to defuse them all. I have about…” (he checked the digital readouts) “…twenty seconds.”
Amazing Guy, Nats, and Blargelslarch were back to adulthood in time to die. “I can try and shield us,” AG said uncertainly.
“I might be able to teleport a few of them away,” G-Eyed suggested. “But not enough.”
“I might maketh a dimensional rift to dispose of one or two,” mused Donar. “Or mayhap eateth one.”
“I could telekinese them all,” Nats suggested. “But not far enough.”
“You could?” Pegasus checked, looking up sharply. “Then mount me.”
“Er, what?” burbled Nats, but the horsewoman had assumed her winged equine form and scooped him onto her back. He barely had time to point his psychostave and lock the nuclear weapons to follow him before Pegasus streaked away at trans-light speeds.
He counted to fifteen before letting the devices go. Then he was blown off the back of his steed by a bright livid flare.
*
“What happened?” demanded Ziles, joining the others and bringing the priest she had found with her.
“Kink attempted to destroy a unique archaeological discovery,” Dr Blargelslarch answered indignantly.
G-Eyed and AG swooped back down with the stunned Nats and Pegasus. “Fortunately these two got the bombs away in time to save us,” Amazing Guy explained.
“No!” moaned the priest. “No, they did not! Oh no! this is terrible! This is the end of the Parodyverse!”
“What meanest thou?” Donar objected. “All yon felons art fled.” He smote Anihillatus again just to make sure.
“But the noise! The chaos! The activity!” the poor priest gibbered. “The Dreaming Celestian is waking up!.
“So what’s the problem?” Ziles shrugged. “What’s he dreaming anyway?”
“Us,” Al B. realised. “Oh dear.”
“When he wakes up, the Parodyverse ends?” G-Eyed worried. “Boy, Finny is going to be pissed about my first mission as field leader.”
“Not necessarily,” Xander the Improbable noted, stepping forward now the fighting was over. He had Chronic and some creature that looked like it had been scraped out of a latrine in tow after him. “We could try and put the Celestian back to sleep.”
“How?” Donar demanded. “What canst do such a feat? Who must I smiteth?” He looked hopefully at Chronic. “Him?”
The Bog-Thing spoke. “The… entity… must be… soothed… into… dream…”
“Which is why I brought along a musician with a cosmic-level instrument,” Xander explained with a little smile.
Chronic paled. “You want me to lull a Space Robot back to sleep. Nuh-uh. No way. I’m a hard rock kind of guy. I don’t do lullabies.”
“Dost thou do lying shattered with every organ of thy body pulped by an enchanted baseball bat?” Donar asked menacingly.
“But perhaps this one time, by special request,” Chronic amended himself.
The Devil’s Guitar started with Rock-a-bye Baby.
*
Fin Fang Foom had a headache. “So you’re saying that Chronic - Chronic - saved the universe?”
“Well, we helped,” Goldeneyed told him earnestly.
“I did a descant,” Ziles added helpfully.
Nats and Amazing Guy arrived after getting Dr Blargelslarch back to Frammistat Eight. When the Dreaming Celestian had been soothed back to sleep the whole of his Sepulchre had drifted off again through time and space to find a new resting place, which rendered the whole Negativity Zone expedition null and void.
“Is she here yet?” Nats wondered. “Has she unpacked?”
Finny’s female-sense tingled. “She? She who?”
Nats and G-Eyed exchanged embarrassed glances. “Ah well, you see she did help us save the universe, and she needed a place to recover…”
“And we knew it would be better to have her where we could keep an eye on her…”
“And it was nothing to do with her being incredibly hot…”
“It was just good manners really to say she could stay in the mansion while she rested…”
Penny Christopoulos coughed politely, leaning on the doorframe. Since she was only wearing one of Lisa’s abandoned sweatshirts Finny also had a coughing fit.
“Hi there,” Pegasus smiled at them. “I was just wondering if one of you folks could direct me to the hot tub?”
There was a minor stampede.
Hatman put down his latest attempt at the membership rota and sighed. “We’d better take another short break,” he suggested.
This poster posed from 212.159.1.2 when they posted
Message Thread
- #97: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Somewhere Over the Rainbow, or When Villains Picnic - It's been a while since the Hooded Hood did one of these stories, so your comments would be especially appreciated. Let's get that chatter going out there folks! - 18:44 on February 16, 2002
- Heh. Reminded me of one of those episodes of Buffy. You know. The good ones. That are seemingly self-contained yet continue the story....anyway, good one. - (nt) Nats - 20:56 on February 16, 2002
- Thanks, I think. You know, I've only ever seen the pilot episode of Buffy. People keep recommending it but tell me I have to watch the series in order for maximum impact, so I've never got round to seeing it. It certainly seems to have had an effect on several posters here. - (nt) HH - 04:59 on February 17, 2002
- Yes. Seeing as how you Brits are already up to Season Three on DVD, I'd suggest those, that is, if you have a DVD player. The first season set the grounds for the show, but was not necessarily excellent. Seasons Two and Three were the high point of the show, Season Four was very good but not tremendous, and I think it started to go downhill from there, into what we are now looking at, Season Six. Still, I highly recommend the show to everybody, because it is fascinating television. - (nt) Nats - 11:29 on February 17, 2002
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