|
|
Fin Fang Foom: The phantom arc Tuesday, 07-Mar-2000 12:39:07
Fin Fang Foom #4 Whatever happened to the dragon of tomorrow? NTU-150 and Sersi touched down in a snow-covered parking lot in Billings, Montana. Sleet was falling, causing mushy ice to cake up in the crevices of NTU's armor. A quick thermal pulse melted them, and they looked around. Surprisingly, no one had noticed them--the lot was full of cars, but fog and sleet made visibility horrible. Sersi pointed to a section of the strip mall where a large word-balloon logo could be seen--it read "The Splash Page". They walked in, and the cute girl at the counter was taken aback--a man in a suit of armor and an Eternal aren't things you see every day... NTU walked over to the trade paperback section, and snatched a copy of The Golden Age. "I don't mind shopping for the BZLers, Sersi, but why did we have to come all the way out here to get something we could probably get in GothMetropolis York??" Sersi sighed. "Because CoS said he saw a copy of it here, and using the teleporters is just as easy as going across town..." As they bought it, NTU glanced up at the TV--A & E was on, and he heard a familiar voice hosting Biography... The voice could be clearly heard, with inhuman intonations and an odd emphasis on various words. "NTU, what are you--" Sersi was cut off by a flood of green light shining in the dim comic shop--light from the television screen, which was enveloped in the image of a dragon. ---------------------------------------------- It was raining in Parodiopolis. Not a heavy rain, but the kind that tempted you with sunshine through it's clouds but never let up, an otherwise beautiful day marred by falling wet lines. But one of these lines wasn't falling. It was rising, cutting through the down-falling water, an extension of the human willpower and determination to whom it was attached. Over the pitter-patter of rain hitting gleaming buildings and well-kept streets and sidewalks, a noise could be heard. It was a whoosh of fabric, a hard boot hitting a rooftop, but making little noise. The line snaked out again, and all-too-human muscles struggled to make the line work, wrestling against it, and finally arriving on the top of a massive skyscraper. The Dark Knight stood warming up next to a vent on that rooftop, where bursts of warm air would rush every thirty seconds. He took a device out of his high-tech--but mostly concealed--belt, and the screen of it flashed a grid of interlocking squares and polygons. Soon, they resembled the building's layout. Despite the rain, he could see it clearly, thanks to cybernetic lenses designed by a certain alien friend. He touched part of the screen, and the image rotated, showing a cross-section of a large office. The Dark Knight crouched down, knowing that he could still be seen from neighboring buildings. He thought about using the roof-entry door, but he'd gone into a trap too many to seriously consider it--auto-trigger poison-tipped crossbows had been attached to them before, as had pressure-sensing explosives. He'd survived those. He'd survive what would happen next. But he wouldn't take unnecessary risks. He glanced down at a ventilation shaft, and shuddered as he remembered a make-shift guillotine and a serial killer with a penchant for beheadings. He thought of the resources he had available to him--phosphorus-capsule mini-grenades, weight-dispersing grapplers, anti-electrical liquid rubber attached to a CD-Rom disk and standard-sized ID bar code card, even his trademark Knightstick. The Knightstick it would be--he brought it out of the special compartment in the lining on the edge of his cloak, and it automatically recognized his "aura"--a combination of the human electric/radio field, thought patterns, DNA, and as-yet-undiscovered energies within the human form which would most likely be the soul. But he was more than technology. He was a man with a simple-in-comprehension, but impossible-in-execution, goal. More accurately, impossible for anyone but him. Instead of using the Knightstick's various high-tech functions, he merely used it's more durable qualities to pry the ventilation shaft's covering off. He managed to do it without breaking or bending any bolts or other pieces, thus concealing the fact that anyone had ever been there. He made his way into the vent, barely fitting, and closed his eyes. In the darkness, sight was a burden, a confusing, distracting, and unneeded sense. His breathing slowed, his concentration strengthened. His cape absorbed the sound, the creaking and the strain of the thin metal shaft went unheard. He could "cheat", and use his nightvision lenses, but he preferred not to--he wanted the man to overcome the challenge, not the technology. The technology had its time and place, but neither of those were now. He relied on his other senses, and his memory of the building's layout. He wasn't in a dark and cramped shaft, he was looking at a glowing picture in his mind, the obstacles he faced were merely lines on a screen, and nothing more--or so he'd conditioned himself to believe. He sooned found the exit--a small frame in the ceiling of a rarely-used storage room. The Knightstick was again used, and he caught the cover before it hit the ground. He removed a parcel from the lining of his thick-but-flowing cape. He opened it, revealing a change of clothes, and a face that looked nowhere near as rubbery as it should have--his expert eyes could tell facades from reality, and even he struggled to realize the sheer quality of the facial illusion. He donned it, and the clothes, and again closed his eyes, sensing for motion or sound or anything that would indicate someone was outside. He found none, and exited the room. ----------------------------- NTU and Sersi walked through the various sound stages, each having a different backdrop, all surrounded by television cameras. It was unusually quiet, certainly an odd place for an executive to have an office. They were soon greeted by a man in his fifties, he gave them firm handshakes and offered them a seat. He introduced himself as Clay Verner, president of the Parodiopolis branch of A & E. After some formalities, they got down to business. "We believe you had a friend of ours in your employ, Mr. Verner..." said NTU. "Ah, yes--the dragon. Fin Fang Foom, no?" "That's him," said Sersi. "He's been missing on and off for some time...it's not like him to just disappear..." Verner grinned. "Ah, I can relate--I, too, have been trying to contact him. But I suspect that if I ever really needed to contact him, I could. He and I are old friends--back when I was a journalist, I ran into him when they tore down the wall." "Did he say anything...unusual?" "He said nothing but unusual things, I can assure you," Verner laughed. "He did mutter something about, ah...Comic Limbo, I believe--there was a portal involved, and something about an old debt..." "I see...what exactly was his job?" "Not a job, really, he was just resting up--he'd been through quite an ordeal, and I let him use my private quarters here on the set. He gave me some advice on ways to improve the network, and he filled in for my narrator on Biography a time or two. A marvelous thing, really--he spoke of societal mindsets and generational preferences, in no time at all we were reaching more age groups than we ever had." "I take it he's no longer here?" "Yes, he left some time ago...I suspect he went to Washington, DC." "Why's that?" "He was looking for information of some kind, and the Library of Congress seemed to keep coming up in his internet searches, which was right before he left." "I see...thanks for your time, sir." "No problem at all, young man. If you do find him, please, say hello to him for me--and tell him that he still owes me an exclusive interview..." -------------------------------------- Cordelia Strind walked through the executive offices of Parodyverse Comics, and heard the creek of a door as it shut--she turned, and saw no one, save a man in a trench coat at the water cooler nearby. She shrugged; someone must have gone in, and not come out. The man didn't look familiar, he had average features, a bit too average...she figured she'd remember what he looked like in case she needed to get security, but quickly realized that he had no identifiable marks or scars or features...even his hair color was in-between shades, difficult to describe. The man looked at her and smiled naturally--she thought she detected a hint of a forced smile, but no, it was too natural. She walked up to him, and asked if she could help him. "Of course, miss...I'm looking for the executive secretary..." "Mrs. Reed is on vacation, I'm her assistant, and filling in for her...who might you be?" "I might be Tyler Adams, a reporter for an online comic fanzine." "Ah, of course," she gritted her teeth--these types were always difficult. "Why are you here today?" "My employers are putting together a list for all of the Parodyverse releases for the next season, and I wanted to check on a few I wasn't sure about--is Andrew Dean still on the MuchoMan project?" "Yes, he is--the first issue will be listed in the advance order previews soon." "Ok, then, because I heard the project might have been scrapped..." "Projects get scrapped every day, so I can see where you're coming from--but no, his is still a go." The phone rang, and she muttered something to him and picked it up--minutes later, when she looked up from the message she'd written down, Tyler was gone... -------------------------- Evading the guards had been easier than he'd thought, considering no one had seen him come in the building. "Tyler" loosened his trench coat, the heat from the roof-vent was still clinging to his specially-designed costume. He checked his watch, and a message went across its face--it was NTU's latest status report. They were headed to Washington DC, apparently. "Tyler" sent back the response, which detailed how his lead had gone cold. He wished he could just tear off his disguise and swing away, but Parodiopolis didn't have shadowy, dark buildings, and the rain had let up a bit, so The Dark Knight was forced to journey to his next destination on foot... Fin Fang Foom #5 Of wanderings in the forest ... *note: this takes place before Parodiopolis is destroyed He used to think it was a figure of speech. NTU-150's hand hovered over a small red button. That, in itself, would mean little to someone who knew him--he was always fiddling with technology. But that's just the small picture. If you were to expand the picture, you'd see paperwork on a desk, a chair, light coming in from a large window...and eventually a presedential seal. Sersi leaned back in the President's chair, putting her feet on the desk. "So there really is a little red button that controls all the nukes?" "Well, there's a smaller computer console that programs it exactly, but yeah, hitting that button means...boom." "I see..." she quickly got up from the chair, and stepped away from the button. "Shouldn't we get out of here? We'll probably be caught soon..." "Well, we should try the Library of Congress again, see if it's open yet...but still, the janitor there said that Finny was on the council of...what was it?" "Alien activity and something-or-other...whatever it was, he thought it met in the Oval Office." "Hmmmm...well, I can definitely tell you he was here...look at the tail-imprint on that chair..." They heard a door unlocking, and a voice, but when the door opened the only thing in the Oval Office was an eerie feeling... ---------------------- In Parodiopolis, there was another empty room. It was an apartment, one which had been untouched for weeks. Or so The Dark Knight had deduced. He was correct, of course, in both his current theory and his past one--namely, that Fin Fang Foom's alter ego Andrew Dean only used this apartment for superficial purposes, while making his real home in Montana. DK pulled off his disguise--a trench coat, slacks, button-down shirt, "fake" collapsible shoes, and a realistic-looking human face, to reveal his usual uniform--a dark, tight-fitting bodysuit, along with a special cloak, a more-or-less hidden utility belt, his mask, and high-tech gloves and boots. He'd bypassed Finny's security system easily enough--the system was programmed to let him in, even moreso when Finny hadn't regularly checked in with his apartment's mainframe computer. He put his disguise back on, and left the apartment complex. No clues as to where Finny was now could be found there, but DK figured he'd check the dragon's other haunts--starting with those on the GothMetropolis side of the river. He could make quicker time as The Dark Knight, and commuting as his superheroic self in Parodiopolis was considerably more difficult. But before he did that, he noticed a billboard which advertised Pine Place mall, which contained a book store that Finny often visited. He trekked across a few blocks, the massive mall parking lot, and finally made his way into the mall itself. The mall was less crowded than usual, most everyone was in school or at work. He checked the book store, the arcade, a computer shop, and a few other stores, crisscrossing the mall so he wouldn't miss Finny if he was there. But it was pointless, Finny wasn't there. He'd arrived at an intersection, four of the mall halls converged under a giant skylight and a massive fountain. He glanced around one last time, and noticed something odd--each exit that he could see had a man standing by it--looking closer, he noticed that each was about the same build, and wearing bulky clothing...and each was blocking the handles of the doorway they were standing in front of. He thought it odd that no one was coming in, and checked the security cameras--sure enough, they'd stopped, hanging there with their power lights off. It was a trap--but for whom? ------------------------- "Sure, your dragon pal was in here--he sat around reading every conspiracy-related book we had, then he devoured the ancient history section." The head librarian didn't even acknowledge them by looking up, he just kept sticking his head in piles of paperwork. "Uh...figuratively or literally?" asked Sersi. "Figuratively--I understand, with dragons, you can never be too sure..." "What else did he read?" asked NTU. "Some science material, strictly theoretical, out-in-left-field weird authors, mind you. And he spent quite a bit of time reading the 'Group Dynamics' encyclopedias--they cover all kinds of deviant organizations throughout human history." "And you just let him stay here? I mean, a dragon in a library...!" "He gave us a grant to build a new wing a few years back, so we were just repaying the favor. Tell me, is this dragon fellow in trouble?" "Not at all, we're friends of his, we just wondered where he went to..." "Oh, that's easy--he's looking for other giants." "W-what?" "Well, ever since those cheesy rubbery-monster movies gave them a bad rap, giants--you know, robots, monsters, Paul Bunyan, all those guys--well, not just giants, folk legends too. That butler chap, and his superhero buddies are folk legends of a sort, but not exactly--he was looking for legends, urban myths and the like." "Do you know why?" "He just said that he should probably check up on them, see if they're all right..." "We've been following his trail from Parodiopolis to here, and, well--there doesn't seem to be a pattern..." "Oh, there isn't--he's just wandering around, just doing things that need to be done along the way--he said himself that it doesn't all tie together." "You also mentioned conspiracy books, didn't you?" "Yes, he was just reading up on various things...he did say that he'd be going to Roswell, however, just because that place seems to be a center for legends." The librarian finally looked up, to offer the young man named "Enty" a cough drop--his voice sounded strange--but he and his female companion were gone... ------------------------------ DK had finally figured it out. NTU's latest information flashed across the screen of his watch, and he knew the truth--as well as who was trying to set a trap... The man pretending to make a phone call gave it all away--despite the man's bottle-blonde hair, DK could recognize the scar on his face--a scar he'd put there...last time. His true name isn't known, but his main alias is Roderick--he's the leader of a group of terrorists who prefer to think of themselves as troubleshooters. He and Finny had encountered them before--they're from a small European country which had many folk heroes, but lost its dignity, being invaded in almost all wars. The UN broke up their country, doling out the war-torn remains to neighboring lands. But a small group of soldiers escaped, and set about bringing "justice" to an outside world that destroyed their country. They justify their terrorism by being "monster hunters", hunting down legends and killing them, but always making a profit through ransom, bank robbery, mercenary work, and other means. But The Dark Knight doesn't care about the fact that their vendetta is partially justified by the treatment of their country. He doesn't care that they're trying to keep their dignity, or that they've done some incredible things, taking on a massive challenge. He doesn't care because they're committing crimes. Because they're endangering lives. Because they're rationalizing their activities without conscience. Because they're blaming others when blame doesn't accomplish anything. Because justice must be blind. Blindness. The word stung. The Dark Knight remembered a child who lost her sight because of their vendetta. A child who did nothing but want to meet an actor who had supposedly died, but was in fact alive, the victim of a bizarre love triangle. He had a cult following, and was popular in the 70's.These terrorists had seen this actor as a legend, and tried to play the conquering hero, nearly killing the actor if not for the intervention of a certain vigilante. The Dark Knight made a decision. If they're after him, they'll be dealt with, and nothing more. If they're after someone else, their mission will end on this day. In a bizarre way, he could accept someone trying to kill him, not take it personally. But someone else was another story... The Dark Knight looked around. The terrorists were getting ready to make their move. He pulled out two shurikens, just like the one that had torn across Roderick's face months ago. One would slice off Roderick's hand, the other would take out the lights--it was still cloudy, so the mall was mainly lit by the lights in the ceiling. He could get the disguise off in seconds, and auto-dissolve the false-face he was wearing. But then it happened. A girl walked near DK, and a bullet flew. It was headed for her. She was too far away to tackle, so DK fell onto the ground, did a handstand, and let loose a sweep kick, knocking her feet out from under her. She fell, and the bullet whizzed over her by inches. He continued swinging his legs in a follow-through motion, and once they came near the fountain, he propelled himself against it, catching her, and he darted into a sporting goods store. He used a "snake" camera to look around the corner, and saw that no one was there--the gun had been automatically set to hit the fountain--it was now blasting through the skylight, the sheer force shattering the glass. They'd done it as a distraction, as well as mess up the security systems--the glass being broken would set off alarms, and rebooting it would provide a window of operation for the terrorists. DK made a mental note to himself--the cameras were on a separate system... Storing that bit of info for later, he noticed that the lights flickered, surely meaning the security system was being rebooted. He heard footsteps--all in synch with each other, then guns cocking, and then a voice--Roderick's voice. There were easily 30 men, and they'd rounded up just about everyone in the mall. "Greetings, Americans--I am Roderick, and these men are my loyal followers--today, we have a special person with us--or rather, you do. In your mall is a legend--a man who preached your pathetic freedom, a man whose writings are small in perspective, but are part of a larger force. He talks of false heroes--my men and I are true heroes, with adventures and tales which cannot be compared to any corporate-spun story-telling. That man is Andrew Dean, a writer for the Parodyverse Comics Emporium, who torment us all with their endless prattling, boring us with tales of heroes who save mindless hordes instead of conquering and providing a suitable example for people. But we shall correct him. The pretenders shall be destroyed, while the true heroes triumph!" Roderick aimed the gun at Dean's head, and prepared to fire... Continued... Fin Fang Foom #6 The Knight and the Dragon How can they not understand? That question was flying through the mind of The Dark Knight, as it always did. A gun was pointed at Andrew Dean's head. The gun was held by a man named Roderick. "Please remain calm, everyone--your lives are not in danger. Only his is, " he gestured to Dean, "because he is a symbol of the misconceptions so many of you believe--that heroes are bright and wonderful, and to be respected. In the past, heroes were conquerors, men of might, not...compassionate fools. We are going to show you what real heroes are like--heroes who take charge, who do incredible deeds--but, as a price for witnessing this deed, your government will have to pay 5 million dollars to us." The crowd--who were surrounded by Roderick's lackeys--murmered. "Ransom" was the most frequent word to describe what was happeneing. "Not ransom, merely giving us what we deserve." He made a sharp motion. "But Dean shall live--for now. You have not yet witnessed our deed, and we shall give your slow-witted public leaders time to decide their course of action." That was all The Dark Knight needed to hear. He sprinted off into the back room of the sporting goods store, and started making his way through the maintenance halls hidden deep in the mall. He slid down a ladder to the lower level of the mall, and waited--the largest bathroom was down there, and he knew that Roderick's men would be taking their hostages there in shifts. DK tried his comm-gear, but to no avail--a damper had been placed on the entire mall, cutting off communication. But that meant that they couldn't use walkie-talkies, either. He'd considered placing a remote camera to watch Dean, but he didn't, because he knew something they didn't--that Dean led an incredible double life as Fin Fang Foom! His shapeshifting powers would keep Roderick's gunfire from hurting him, but if Roderick did fire, his secret identity could be compromised...thankfully, DK was sure that Finny had seen him save the girl, who was nearly shot. That girl was still passed out under a raft in the sporting goods store. Soon enough, some of the hostages walked by, with three of Roderick's men escorting them. They went into the bathrooms, while the men kept guard by the doors. The bathroom was at the bottom of an escalator, and a guard was at the top of the escalator. The Dark Knight was behind the guard at the top of the escalator, crouching in the shadows. He removed a small pen-resembling device from his concealed utility belt, and waited for it to happen. The men's room sink was turned on, and when it did, the door to the men's room was sealed shut with a high-tensile wire--the wire wrapped around the faucet control and slipped underneath the handle, the knot catching. "Hey, the door's stuck!!" Two of the guards tried to pull it open, but couldn't do it--the men inside the bathroom couldn't see the near-invisible wire, much less figure out how to untie the knot. They called for the third guard, who ran down the escalator steps--which is just what DK had wanted. He flicked a button on the pen-like device, and it split in half, a cord connecting both pieces. He threw the specially-designed bolas, and the cord grew longer as it spun, wrapping around the man's legs, causing him to fall down the escalator steps. The other two guards momentarily stopped trying to get the door open to help him, but started to feel funny as they got close--both soon passed out. The Dark Knight swung down to the lower floor. The invisible, odorless gas the bolas had released couldn't get past the gas mask in his cowl, and even if it did, he'd spent years developing an immunity to it and countless other poisons and knockout gasses. He quickly disabled all three men's uzis--he did this by four simple steps: first, he used his Knightstick to break off the gun's trigger. Then, he dented the barrel shut. Then, two more blows, one to the inside area of the gun where the ammo cartridge would slip in, and one on the casing adjacent to it. He did this two more times, taking under twenty seconds. Under his mask, the Dark Knight grimaced, and wondered why the dragon hadn't made his move yet... -------------------------------------------- It was an unusually sunny day in Seattle. Two young men walked through its streets, specifically, the cobblestone, upscale "square" of downtown. They entered a large plaza, where they made their way through men and women in office clothes. They, on the other hand, were wearing t-shirts and jeans...as always. But no security guard gave them any trouble, no one noticed that they were out of place, for Matt and Travis weren't your average teenagers. They rode the elevator to the top floor, where they walked to what appeared to be a dead-end hall...only to duck past the large potted plant into an adjacent--but easily not seen--hall. They soon came upon a doorway, with two locks on it. They both took out keys and turned at the same time, and entered in. It was a medium-sized room, with two levels--on the top, there was a bathroom, a coat rack, and a few cushioned chairs. Five steps down, there was a large couch and a recliner, a big-screen tv, a bank of computers, a refrigerator and small kitchen, and a high-tech armory space embedded in the wall. Travis flipped on the computers, and Matt took what looked like a high-tech egg out of his jacket pocket. He placed it into a tube on the wall, and light bounced from the "egg", hit a prism at the top of the tube, ricocheted to the floor, and two figures materialized--NTU-150 and Sersi. Air rushed away from them as they filled up empty space, and Sersi mumbled something about hating nanotechnology. "Did we HAVE to do it like this, guys?" asked NTU. "Sorry, but yeah--only four people know where this place is, and the two of you aren't one of us." said Travis absently, as he brought up menus on the computer screen. "So...you guys know where Finny is, right?" asked Sersi. "We've followed his trail from Roswell to Las Vegas to Hawaii to Alcatraz to a dozen small towns in the American heartland." "Ah, let's see...a talk-radio host for an alien-related program, a bounty hunter who blackmailed the casinos, chieftan of a native Hawaii dragon-worshipping tribe, a former-inmate ghost haunting the hallways of Alcatraz, and a salesman for relaxing Makluan herbs and spices." said Matt, without missing a beat. "Uh...how'd you know all that?" "Finny, DK, Matt and I were all friends in high school, so there's not much that they do that we don't know about." commented Travis. "So where is he now?" "I actually don't know," said Travis, "but wherever he is, he's in for a surprise...look what just popped up on the information highway..." They all looked at the screen--the webpage was a document which had been stuck on the further-back pages of most major newspapers, as it was apparently a non-story--it was just about a disturbance in a Mideast desert, where a large part of the desert floor had been eroded, by forces unknown to man. But not unknown to dragons... ------------------------------------------ A group of small children huddled around a bench in the mall, where they stared in awe at Dean--they'd never seen a man who was about to die. They were nervous--they'd never seen their parents act this way before, or seen men with guns, for that matter. Dean smiled, and tried to calm them down--"C'mere, kids, and I'll tell you a story...a story of a far-away land where things made much more sense..." ------------------------------------------ In a vacant part of the mall, four guardsmen patrolled the foyer area near the back door. One of the men heard a rustle of fabric, and turned around. The Dark Knight let out a silent karate chop on the man's shoulder, temporarily paralyzing him, thanks to a pressure point. Before that man hit the ground, the Dark Knight had dragged him off into the mall store right next to the one from which he'd jumped out of. The man's partner turned around--he didn't see his fellow guardsman, but thought nothing of it, he was probably getting a drink of water or making sure that the personnel-only doors were secure. He wandered close to one of the stores... ...and then, he felt a sharp feeling at the back of his neck, and then there was darkness. He dimly felt the floor slide underneath him, as the Dark Knight had gone from hiding in one store to hiding in the next one closest to his goal--where Dean was being held. Each time he came out into the open to move one store closer and there was a guard nearby, he'd take out the guard. The third guard was farther away, and noticed that the other two had disappeared around the same place...before he could think of what to do about it, a flying Knightstick ricocheted off of several walls as it took out him out, the man's chin didn't even slow the durable weapon down, it was like the ocean hitting a grain of sand. The man's partner around the corner of the hall saw it, and before he could radio it in a shuriken had slit his wrist...The Dark Knight dragged the unconscious bodies into the shadows, and continued his progress... --------------------------------------- In the Mideast, a scarred hand clutched desperately at whatever purchase it could find, and a figure in black shredded fabric emerged from a large hole, once covered by tons of sand, which had now eroded from the wind...or so it appeared. He was confused, disoriented, and had an anger which had no discernible cause...and for a moment, he felt peace, the peace brought on by ignorance. But he was then drowned with a torrent of memories, memories which turned his peace to unmitigated warfare... Continued... Fin Fang Foom #7 A Phantom's tale The name of the city, for all intents and purposes, doesn't matter. It was, however, a bit more bright than most cities--more stylish, clean, and friendly-looking. But the latter quality was occasionally only correct in theory. Right now, for instance, as a hijacked armored car sped through the city's streets, it didn't look very appealing. Gunfire was exploding between police cars and the armored car, pedestrians barely got out of the way in time, and one man stood firm. He viewed the situation from a rooftop, smiling. He did some mental mathematics to adjust for the wind, and dove off the roof. The men inside the armored car thought they were free and clear. No traffic ahead, and a dwindling number of cop cars behind. They were so intent on looking back that they barely noticed a dull thumping sound on the hood--they turned to see a figure on the hood...he had on an oversized domino mask, stylish black-and-white tights, a mop of black hair, and a perfect smile. "Going my way, boys?" he asked. They responded with gunfire. The bullets tore throught he windshield, and he did a handstand on the roof to avoid the onslaught. They continued firing, upwards this time. One sound later, they realized they were idiots. The large rear doors of the armored cars made a tearing noise--metal on metal...on metal. They instinctively realized who'd torn the doors off. Without speaking, they brought their weapons to bear on the figure who'd just dropped the door onto the highway, in the hopes of at least providing a bit of force to make him fall off. Unfortunately, they were idiots--idiots who'd wasted their bullets shooting at a distraction. A blue-tinted robot dented his foot into the floor of the vehicle, anchoring himself. Two antennae on his head lashed out with electricity, taking out two gunmen. The third rushed him, hoping to knock him out of the vehicle. But the robot merely drew back a hand, closed it into a fist quicker than the flip of a light-switch, and met the man's momentum with that of his metal fist. As the impact sent him into the front of the vehicle, he saw the masked man, who was already pulling over the vehicle, and had subdued the fourth and fifth robbers. Onlookers cheered as the two heroes carried the limp forms of the thieves in one hand, and bag-fulls of money in the other. The police took both, and the heroes vanished... ------------------------------ "Then what happened, Mr. Dean??" They say that everyone has got a story to tell. Thus, a dead man walking should tell his stories sooner than later--and that's just what Andrew Dean is. "Yeah, and I wanna hear about that kid dragon sidekick who was from our d'mission!!" "That's 'dimension'--and there's plenty of time for more stories..." said Dean. The men holding them captive in the mall also listened--they were a bit unsettled by stories of superheroes, as they'd run into some before. But they were confident they could carry out their mission--kill Dean, charge the government five million to get the rest of the people back--the money being a "witnessing fee" for seeing these men live out their dystopic "legend slayer" fantasy. While Dean himself could easily be called a legend, they didn't know his secret. But they were after Hal Vanderbilt's international entertainment company today, eliminating what they saw as competition to their "heroic deeds". And so far, Dean's alter ego Fin Fang Foom was letting them. Once, Dean had lived in the world he was describing to these children. When he'd first gotten his powers, he created a fantasy world with his imagination--only to have his honorary Lord of Comic Limbo powers bring it to life. He was trained there for his current superheroic career, and missed that place. Recently, he'd returned, and couldn't bring himself to face his "normal" life in the Parodyverse after the "perfect" world of his youth. Instead, he'd become a wanderer, seeking out his destiny. He didn't find it. And because of that, he knew that he had to return to his normal life. But before he did, before he got settled in, before he accepted his fate, he had one last score to settle... ------------------------------ In a distant countryside, a man relived his destiny. The skies were filled with threatening clouds, harsh winds bent back the tall grass, and animals ran for cover. A lone figure struggled against nature. Fighting against the elements, he covered his face with his arms so he could see without the wind in his eyes. Behind him, an empty highway road stretched out into the horizon. The cold air bit at his scarred hand. He swore, and made his way up a hill. When he saw what was on the other side of the hill, he was enraptured. More memories came. He was younger, only eleven years old, and standing in the same spot. The storm was so imminent, he had to find shelter...but none could be seen. Until The Gleam. Oh, The Gleam!! He remembered The Gleam. Lightning gave birth to a spark of color on a refractive surface...not mud, not grass, not a tree, but something man-made!! He let out a chorus of laughter and nonsensical mumbling. "Just...just like the first time..." The lines between past and present blurred, and he approached The Gleam--this time, he knew what lay inside the hidden bunker--and it was something he once again had need of... ---------------------------- Things were back to normal in Comic Limbo--or as normal as they ever could be, at any rate. In this place, there was a group of characters who had also been created with the help of Andrew Dean. One of them was Andrew Dean himself, in a way--as many children imagine themselves as superheroes, Dean took it to the next level, putting his face on a superhero he'd created, to make characterization easier. Unused for what felt like forever, the pseudo-Dean, out-of-costume as usual, had a vision. A scarred hand--but from where? He remembered his "early incarnation"--before Dean had put his personality in the character's form, he was merely a enigmatic superhero, a "prototype" of sorts. And he, like the other better-developed characters who'd come after Dean's first child-like creations, had once fought a phantom. He came after them, in terms of creation. He was a villain, the ultimate villain--a genius who stumbled upon a hidden lair, which contained a mysterious power source. The power flowed into him, making him the most dangerous man on earth. At this point, the "first generation" heroes had been nearly-forgotten, and the "second generation" heroes were blending into what would be the next wave of creations...they were a ragtag group, mediocre characters who were now held up to a more strict judgmental light, and were forced to fight off the more well-created villain. They won, with help from the man called Warrior--the superhero Dean would later put his face on. Warrior, a "fourth generation" hero, would go on be their creative successor, his baptism by fire being the last battle with the phantom--a battle that proved him worthy to go to the next creative level when he lobbed an acid grenade at one of the phantom's hands, preventing him from using his hand-based energy powers. Warrior-Dean laid back, and wondered what was going through his creator's mind... --------------------------------- The Dark Knight knew the answer. He knew this was all in Finny's head. It was all mental. And The Dark Knight also knew what was happening. Matt and Travis undoubtedly knew, and they'd probably told NTU and Sersi. Roderick and his terrorists had begun to notice that some of their men who'd escorted hostages to the restroom weren't back yet. A few of his men had heard odd sounds--light crunching noises, eerie echoes, and a bouncing noise they couldn't explain. But Roderick could. He dispatched all available men to the area the men had been last seen in...and watched them from afar as they ran down the large hallway of the mall. The men sprinted down the hallway, and the point-man tripped, and fell into an ascending series of metal wires. A crackle could be heard, and from one end to the other, electicity blasted across the tight wires. "Fishing lines...?" one of the men muttered, as he looked around--the lines were hooked up to the still-operating security cameras, a small-but-powerful electric current running through them. The men had been spread thin throughout the mall, and the dozen or so men who'd disappeared had lost of territory to cover--territory which was now crisscrossed with electrified wires, cutting off exits. Loose wires from the ceiling then fell, only one end of these lines was hooked to a power source--but the wires danced with a life all their own, flowing with power, and the terrorists couldn't stay out of their way. Then, the Dark Knight exploded onto the scene. He could have just shoved the wires out of his way thanks to his protective-costume, but he had a rep to keep, so he calmly evaded the swinging wires, using his agility and incredible senses to stay out of their way as he made martial arts movements that looked more like casual gestures, as he pushed them into the wires in various ways. The remaining terrorists, including Roderick, got on the other side of the wires, and aimed their weapons at the vigilante. Their mobile communications center was nearby, and he threw his Knightstick behind before they fired. Two things happened: first, the Knightstick's magnetic function was activated behind the comm-gear, which was set up to so they could communicate with the outside world, the radio damper they'd placed on the mall couldn't touch it. Second, their steel-jacketed bullets swerved as they passed the area adjacent to where the Knightstick lay. The bullets hit the comm-gear before they hit the Knightstick. Roderick knew what would happen--the authorities they'd been negotiating with would take the lack-of-communication as a potential threat, and send in a SWAT team. Normally, Roderick's men could take them on with all these hostages in the way, but The Dark Knight must have evacuated the hostages his men were escorting, and taken down his men as well. Short on ammo, hostages, and manpower, Roderick turned around, trying to see what the authorities were doing outside, and he clutched his hand-held grenade launcher in hopes of buying a few more seconds... ...only to have his view blocked by a lone, green, winged figure. The special locks on the door were now nothing but shredded circuitry and metal junk. The remaining hostages were fleeing out of the large quadruple-doors of the main mall entrance. The SWAT team was approaching rapidly.The men guarding the hostages were embedded into the floor, walls, or bloodied and lying awkwardly, all victims of carefully-applied superstrength. And Fin Fang Foom was back. He emptied the contents of the launcher on the dragon, but to no avail--Finny was near-indestructible, and could shapeshift away damage if it could even get through. The Makluan-native lashed out with his tail, shattering the launcher. He spun on his heels, vowing to lob a few single grenades at the Dark Knight, even if his men would be killed as well--but his men were fallen. But a plastic-based shuriken tore into the grenade, damaging the pull-pin--if he removed it, the shuriken would come into contact with the volatile explosives within, and the grenade would explode instantaneously. Without their weapons, the Dark Knight had made quick work of Roderick's men--and now, the would-be "folk hero" was caught between the most threatening duo on earth. "Give it up, Roderick." the dragon calmly stated. The Knightstick flew back into The Dark Knight's gloved hand, and the masked urban legend simply nodded. Both heroes were now once again at the top of their games--the dragon had overcome his inner struggles, and the knight had overcome Roderick's men, and was now once again fully armed. Two of the most formidable willpowers on earth had combined in the pursuit of a goal, and no one, let alone a thug like Roderick, could stop them. But he could still have his honor. He pulled the pin, and the shuriken sunk close to the firey womb of the grenade...but it went no further. Roderick hesitated for a second, and tried to forcibly push the shuriken into it. He cut himself in the process, he shifted the grenade around, but it didn't work. In desperation, he banged it on the floor. Nothing happened. The shuriken had let out a poweful acid when it hit, melting the miniscule-but-important gears and gadgetry inside the grenade. He stomped on it, and was just about to slit his throat with the shuriken when he heard muffled words which would haunt and dishonor him the rest of his life... "You always wondered why I didn't kill--now you know. What greater victory can a man have over his opponent than to give him shame in defeat rather than dignity in death?" The blow connected, and the unconscious man fell at the feet of a dragon, who was secretly betting his life that the masked man had smiled when he said that... -------------------------------- NTU, Sersi, Matt, and Travis arrived at the desert, where random scorch marks scarred the environment. The two teenagers shook their heads, and NTU and Sersi both took to the air in response. Once up a few hundred feet, they saw that the words "Rematch" had been scorched in the sand... Continued... Fin Fang Foom #8 A quiet armageddon It was, quite literally, the middle of nowhere. Explosion-riddled, crewless battleships sprawled out in the endless desert. No other vestige of human activity, past or present, could be seen. In the shadow of one of the ships, several tents had been set up. Inside them were quarters for travellers, and a small eatery. Inside that eatery were grizzled, weary men and women, most of which thieves, mercenaries, traitors, and prison escapees. The flaps of the tent spread open, and light blasted inside, for the first time in more than a half-day. Two figures stood outlined in the blinding sunlight. The tent flaps closed, vision blurred and then focused. The men were in drab, dingy, desert clothing--with scarves hiding each face and no skin showing. They sat at the counter, and said nothing. "You guys got a problem?" The broken english came from the owner of the cantina. Never looking up, one of the men said "Leave." "What?" "Now." Silence settled in. A bottle flew. It broke over the head of the man on the left. Nothing happened. A gun was drawn. The man on the right snaked his arm around the arm of the gunman, and tightened it. The sound of bone cracking could be heard. Neither men had moved from their seats, or at all, save for the motion of one arm. The patrons of the bar hesitated, wondering what to do. But only for a moment. Obviously, the bar was now empty--except for two. "You leave a place vacant for a few years, and the human equivalent of rats move in," the man on the left said as he pulled down his hood, revealing the visage of Fin Fang Foom. "Think it's still where we left it?" asked The Dark Knight, who's also pulled down his outer hood, revealing his normal cowl. "It had better be...we're gonna need it, after all..." ------------------------------ Two small red circles hovered in the darkness. They started moving, floating higher and higher. They came to rest, and a light turned on--a red light. The darkness was gone, except for a jet-black human form silhouetted in the light. He wore the red-lensed goggles over his eyes. His hands glowed with red energy. One did so perfectly, the other struggled. He removed a glove, and massaged his scarred hand. He put the glove back on, and felt the metal headband he wore under his facemask, making sure it was still there. He could feel the power in his mind amplified by it. He tested his teleporting power, re-appearing outside in the still-raging storm. Then he teleported to Africa, Antarctica, China, and the stratosphere. Before he could fall from that great height, he focused his mind, and a red field of energy outlined him. He broke free of gravity and soared into space, heading for the moon. Once there, he headed for the first hill he could find, punching it--several hundred tons of rock shattered. Then, he let out an energy blast from his unscarred hand--it caused a massive silent explosion, liquifying a ravine in the process. Then, the fighters came. Specially equipped for space, they fired missiles at the phantom. He lashed out at one with his mind, grabbing onto it, and sending it back at the starfighter. A streak of round, thin energy erupted out of his mind, with a swirling black energy wrapping around it, but not touching it. That one scrambled the missile, and it crashed. The third missile hit him. The other pilots shot every missile they had at him. Not even his goggles cracked. He then tore through them, crippling their crafts with superstrength and carefully-placed energy blasts. Only two fighters remained. The pilots believed themselves to be the last line of defense against this man--and they were armed with nuclear weapons. They fired. At an observatory on earth, a general viewed the scene. The explosions clouded his view, but not so much that he didn't see a red streak heading for earth. He looked at where the last planes had been--all he saw was fiery wreckage-- --two small red circles hovering in the darkness. ------------------------------ "He knows." The statement was simple yet profound, and very revealing--but it was also true. Sersi straightened her shoulders. "So where are they, then?" "Somewhere," said Matt, in the clipped tone that he took on when he was being serious--which was rare. "If this guy is as dangerous as you say, why haven't they called in the Lair Legion for backup?" asked NTU-150. "They have--that's why you're here." said Travis. NTU sighed, and looked around the small Seattle-based hangout they were in. "So what kind of strategy are we going to use against this guy?" "Try not to get killed. Really, that's about it." "How did Finny and his friends beat him?" "Well, Finny was forced to watch, actually, and not participate, thanks to weird circumstances. But after the guy--the phantom--revealed his secret identity, the heroes didn't waste any time taking him down. They found and fought him at his hideout, which was a major mistake--the phantom's hometown was near, and it was completely destroyed in the battle. There were a few more skirmishes, but the final battle was in the deserts of the Mideast--Warrior built a "teleport beacon"--it was attuned to the phantom's teleport signal, and when he teleported, it drew him to the desert. He couldn't get away because it was like a magnet--in his energy form, he couldn't get away from that beacon. They outnumbered him ten-to-one, but he still inflicted major damage on them--until by a miracle they managed to pry off his mental-power-enhancing headband, and severly hurt his hand with an acid bomb--with no mental powers, no ability to fly, and only one hand able to fire energy blasts, they just had to go up against a being who was stronger and more durable than all of them put together." "And...they won?" "Barely, yeah, even though they had to pull him through the surface of the earth, drag him through the earth's molten core, and then push him out the other side just to weaken him up." "Ah...this can't be good." "Who was he, exactly?" asked Sersi. "He was just a kid who got too much power...and grew up thinking he could get away with anything because of that power. And until that last battle, he did get away with it." "But how did he end up in the Parodyverse?" "When we last saw him, he'd managed to empty most of the Red sea onto the desert, and between that , the beating they'd given him, and a few hundred thousand pounds of sand and water collapsing on him, we figured he'd perished, since he couldn't teleport or fly away. But something must have happened to make him end up here...something with his teleporting power, maybe? The beacon was buried along with him, but it wasn't destroyed..." "Well, we'd better come up with a new--and better--strategy fast, or else we'll have a mountain of casualties on our hands..." -------------------------- The battleship's halls echoed with a sound that hadn't been heard in years. Down a hall, into a hatch, up a ladder, across a large storage area and into a near-perfectly-camoflauged door, there was a large sheet, which covered something fairly huge. DK cut the strings on one side, and Finny pulled off the sheet, revealing a large, blue tank, which was shaped like a thumbnail, more or less--if you viewed it from above, you'd see that it was flat at the end, then long, with a rounded front. It had two large treads on the bottom. A black windshield topped it off. "Between four and 50 armored tons--depending on the gravity induction coils--of all-environment firepower." said Finny. "Oh yeah, that's the battletrak." He'd built the battletrak years ago, seeing a need for a large vehicle that could either be a heavy-duty tank, or a lightweight superfast helicopter. The need itself had been this: to take on the phantom, on his home turf. Finny and DK climbed inside, and drove out, blowing up the battleship in the process with the battletrak's firepower. Once outside, the treads retracted, and a large blade came out--the craft lightened, and they flew off. "Now what?" "Now, we wait for him to strike...and pray that my experience, the Lair Legion, and the battletrak will be enough to stop him." Continued... Fin Fang Foom #9 The trouble with phantoms The battletrak-turned-battlecopter was on autopilot, heading over the frozen tundra of Russia, and was well into starting its third trip around the world. It was fairly cramped inside, most of the space taken up by armoring and power systems. Behind the two pilots' chairs there were four additional passenger seats, all of which had rotated inward. A pole came out of the floor, and a round table spun out of it in crescent-like sections. At the six seats were Fin Fang Foom, The Dark Knight, Sersi, NTU-150, Travis, and Matt. They were discussing what could end up being the world's greatest battle. "His energy powers seem to be the key--if we can get that headband off or damage it, he can't use his telekinetic powers--'grabbing', those scrambler pulses, and flight." said NTU. "No go--even if we did that right off, he could still teleport, and he's stronger than the six of us put together, he can take anything we can dish out, and do long-range attacks with his hand-based energy beams." The Dark Knight looked down, half-meditating, focusing on the goal that had to be accomplished. "If he's that powerful, let's call in Donar or Hatman or Jarvis...with those guys and us, we should be able to overpower him..." commented Sersi. "Well, holding them in reserve would be a good idea, but we don't want to provoke him...against just you, NTU, and Finny, he'll think he can take you--but against six big guns, he's bound to majorly lash out." Matt looked over the Phantom's file, trying to find a weakness... "We have to get the advantage early, do some super-long-range hit-and-run stuff--he doesn't have any special senses, so we could batter him from hundreds of miles away, and then pummel him up-close..." Travis reviewed the weaponry onboard the battletrak, making check marks next to the weaponry that would be the most effective... "I came up with a basic battle plan, but we're going to need to a neutral warzone--DK, can you handle that?" The vigilante looked up. "What size of country do you need?" "Preferably one with hundreds of square miles which aren't inhabited by humans...and with good military bases." "Give me an hour." He sprinted off to the small storage area of the battletrak, and jumped inside a small pod. A slender dome closed over him, and two magnetic releases unclamped. The pod fell out of the underside of the battletrak, it's wings extended, and it activated its solar filters, which both powered and cloaked it. "Matt, you're on piloting duty--Travis, use the comm-gear add-ons in the copilot seat to keep tabs on the phantom's sightings, and try to establish a pattern--I want a list of possibles within the hour." They grinned. "Just like old times..." "What about us?" Sersi looked at the dragon questioningly. "You and NTU are going to explain this to the Lair Legion, and get them to stay out of it--for now." "And you?" "I'm going to jury-rig a few advantages for us, and try to think of a way to lure the phantom into our trap..." ------------------- The phantom, however, had come up with--and executed--a plan of his own hours ago. He flew just outside of earth's atmosphere, and one of his hands lit up with red energy--that energy was let loose, and it took out a satellite--and then another, and then another, until there were none left. He flew back to earth, smiling under his mask. Through red-lensed goggles, he approached a prairie, and punched through it, going deeper and deeper into the earth. Once he found a network of underground rivers, he poisoned it, using the mild radiation from his energy to taint it. He diverted the rest, smashing rocks into it to plug it up, and causing it to spill into deserts and natural lava "pockets". He then attacked oil tankers and blasted out the bottoms of oil wells, causing a major power source to be crippled. He flew back into space, sending powerful, random energy blasts back to earth, to add to the worldwide confusion and chaos. The phantom knew his work was just beginning... ------------------ Cliches aside, things were just a bit too quiet. In the halls of a large, regal capital building, foreign-speaking employees walked the halls with a bit of fear, as they were used to their recently-elected leader's loud grandstanding, him going about the place shouting soundbites and appeasing the people who'd elected him. But their leader, to say the least, was occupied. He'd just looked up from a stack of paperwork when he saw that someone had broken into his office--namely, The Dark Knight. "Don't bother pressing the alarm--I disabled it." The leader pressed nonetheless, and was just about to reach for his phone when a shuriken cut the cord in half. He drew back his hand, paused a moment, and decided to deal. "Why are you here?" "I need something--something which you can provide." "And what are you going to give me in return?" "Would you like to hear your choices?" "Yes." "Very well--first of all, I understand you've been having a relationship with a fellow world leader--a married woman, even. Adultery isn't looked well on, even in your part of the world..." "Please, vigilante--those types of things are easily dealt with, as you've seen in your own country." "Perhaps--but will your drug-dealing friends appreciate how you gave her vital information on their operations in her country, thus allowing her to play the hero and assure her re-election?" "Blackmail again, as well as my life being threatened? My military can--" "Your fiercely nationalistic military leaders won't be so pleased with you after they find out that the reason they've been losing funding is because you're supporting an international military force--an issue which you claimed to vote against at the most recent UN meeting." "They can be dealt with as well--my reputation, my life, these things can be--and are--protected." "Perhaps your career, then? I have evidence that you used the nuclear codes of your neighbors--which were given to you in confidence--to buy off a superpower, in exchange for special trading privaliges. Or maybe the people of your country would like to know how you've been using their taxes to fund your penchant for antiques...or your industries might accidentally find out how you've been using American contractors to build your military bases, rather than--" "Very well--what do you need?" "Your most solitary military base, and I'll need the automated defenses codes for it as well. Make something up and evacuate it within a half-hour." He picked up his cel phone. "Very well, Knight--you have the upper hand...this time." But when he looked back up from entering the number, the Dark Knight was gone... ---------------- The battletrak flew over the clouds generating a snowstorm, and Travis got on the mini-PA system. "Guys, I'm picking up a hundred ground-to-satellite feeds--only the satellites aren't receiving them, but something must be..." NTU looked up from a glowing console. "I have the LL satellite in a hidden orbit, and it's nanotech anyway, so it's not easy to see. But this isn't tuned into it..." "Actually, I have a satellite too, it's currently phased into a higher plane of existance, it'll come out in an hour or so." Finny grinned--he loved surprising people with his intellect... Matt looked at the main view-scope embedded above the steering column. "Looks like we've got some riots going on--from the datastream Travis patched through to me, I'd say they're fighting over...water?" "Great, the phantom must have done that hours ago--it takes awhile for the water to circulate from its source to the outside world...looks like he gets first blood. But he won't get the last..." Map coordinates flashed onto a console next to NTU--"Hey, DK found a battleground for us! Hang on, let me put him on the main info feed..." Travis flipped the switch. DK's masked face came onto the screen. "Fin, follow this signal, and print out those coordinates--that's going to be where the phantom's last stand is." "Great! Any weaponry we can use there?" "Yeah, these guys were experimenting with robotically-run defenses--unmanned gun turrets, missile launchers, they even have simple humanoid robots running mortar cannons and tanks. I slaved them all to my own systems, so I'm in control. And their targeting systems are in another language, which I can handle, but aren't that good--can Travis upload the battletrak's targeting program? I can filter the defenses through my jet , but since it doesn't have any weaponry, it doesn't have a targeting program..." Finny glanced in Travis' direction, and his fingers danced on the keyboard. "So how do we lure him here?" Sersi asked. "Simple--we fight dirty." Finny changed his shape, turning into a dead-on likeness of the phantom. "Travis, tap into the major networks' satellite signals, I have some 'must see tv' for our powerhouse buddy to see..." Travis did just that, and in ten minutes, the pseudo-phantom could be seen fighting tanks controlled by DK. But the real phantom saw--and hated. "Huh? I'M the phantom! I'm not gonna waste time fighting stupid tanks, I'm gonna so these idiots what kind of damage I can do when I really want to!" A red bolt streaked into the distance... He arrived to the country in minutes, but when he was within a hundred miles of the base, he was under siege by missiles and mortar blasts from the ground, and then lasers, photonic blasts explosive charges, and vertigo-inducing sonic drones. They slowed him down, but didn't stop him--he started blindly firing his energy blasts, taking out missiles and the drones, and barely noticed the lasers. The photonic blasts rattled him, but he was able to dodge most of them. The mortar blasts did nothing, but then a second wave of sonic drones came, and they were equipped with defense mechanisms--namely, they were attuned to his particular wavelength of energy, and they filtered it right through, no damage done. He managed to punch out a few, but now tiny missiles attacked him as well, which weren't as easy to take out as their larger, slower brothers, especially as his equilibrium was being bombarded by the remaining sonic drones. Back at the battletrak, Matt held the craft steady, as Travis fired round after round of attacks at the phantom a hundred miles away. A periscope-like device came out of the ceiling and linked to NTU's armor, and NTU combined his precision laser-guiding targeting with that of the battletrak, and the result was an ace up their sleeve--but not an ace to be used yet. Finny correlated their attacks with those of DK, and he soon let loose his first special jury-rigged weapon--a very, very special missile. When the phantom saw it, he thought it was just another medium-sized, quick missile--he blasted it from afar, but when he did, something happened. His energy blew up the missile, but it released its explosive cargo as it disintegrated--his energy sparked a reaction, a reaction which snaked up his energy beam, absorbing the power of the beam along the way. His own power had been turned against him. He tried to scream in pain but heard nothing, the sonic drones still active. Temporarily stunned, the phantom was then dealt a horrible blow. NTU had linked the long-range scopes of the battletrak's laser cannon to his own fine-point laser's targeting, and scored a laser hit directly in the phantom's eyes. The explosives in the drones were activated, causing enough damage to take out a square mile of a city. It also released smoke--not just any smoke, but smoke that had been generated by the stardrive of Finny's old spaceship. He coughed and choked on it, his eyes watering. But it wasn't anywhere near enough. Finny, NTU, and Sersi took off after the phantom, who'd started to skim the countryside, searching for the source of the ground-based attacks against him. NTU's repulsors knocked him around, but did little damage. Finny's raw power, combined with Sersi's strength, pushed the phantom back, driving him into a ravine. NTU, no physical slouch himself, had flown a few hundred miles up with a boulder, and dropped it. The phantom just then struck back majorly, causing Finny and Sersi to go flying out of the ravine--and then, the boulder hit him. As a penny falling off a building has the impact of a bullet, this boulder had the impact of a subnuclear explosive. Then, the phantom got mad. He punched Finny. Twenty miles away, a flock of birds were liquified from the wave of the impact. Sersi's matter-manipulation powers ravaged him, but didn't completely affect him. She dodged his punch, giving him a fierce uppercut--just as he prepared to deliver a blow that could cripple her, Finny shapeshifted around him, pinning his arms, and bathing the front of him with fiery breath. That weakened him enough to where NTU and Sersi could batter him senseless--in theory. Punches, energy attacks, long-distance attacks from DK and the battletrak, all rained down upon the phantom. NTU interlocked his fingers in the phantom's hand--his weak hand. He transferred his unibeam power into his repulsors, and put his repulsors on maximum discharge on top of that. The result? His palm-based energy beam tore through the phantom's hand, burning off his glove--but it didn't bruise or bleed. In the battletrak's cockpit, Travis and Matt were horrified. "That...that was one of NTU's most powerful attacks! It got past his invunerable aura, but not his skin...what are we up against here?" The phantom then broke free of Finny's hold, and blasted him with his hand-energy. He backhanded and then telekinetically grabbed Sersi, and threw her miles down to the ground. A mental scrambling bolt hit NTU's armor, and he fell as well, not for good, but he needed time to reboot his systems. Finny knew what was happening--the effect of the sonic drones was wearing off, the phantom was once again in control of his more precise mental abilities. Finny grew in size to his full height, and drew the phantom's fire while he positioned himself--his flame breath forced the phantom to swerve downwards, where Finny's giant fist was waiting for him. The phantom flew backwards from the impact, but was then hit from the opposite direction with Finny's tail. He blasted him again, but Finny opened a "pocket" in his ever-changing form, and withdrew a small device--the phantom's blast was attracted to it, and when it hit, his energy once again turned against him. The anti-energy particles snaked up his red-and-black beam, slicing off energy as it went, and adding it to its own power. He was once again torn apart by it, only this time a fifteen-story dragon was ready to get up-close-and-personal with him. The phantom swung, but to no avail--Finny shapeshifted his body a bit thinner, causing the phantom's punch to fall short. Finny's punch was like a train hitting a mouse. But the phantom was no mouse--he took the damage easily, lashing out with mental scrambling pulses. Finny shrunk and dodged, but some hit, and he was dazed... The phantom pressed the advantage, pounding him into literal paste. Finny, critically injured, fell from the sky--and the phantom blasted into space, to get the impact necessary to kill him. But Finny's third jury-rigged device came into play as the phantom re-entered earth's atmosphere. Far above the phantom, in the battletrak, Travis hit a button. The phantom looked up, but it was too late. Oversized bolas hit him--only they weren't bolas, they were high-power gravity induction coils. They wrapped around him, weighing several tons at first--but then they remote-linked to the phantom's energy signal, and became the heaviest airborne objects on earth. They also absorbed the heat from the re-entry, making it doubly difficult for the phantom to escape. The phantom's exact strength level isn't known, but he's suspected to be able to lift several hundred-thousand tons, which dwarfs even the mightiest of earth's heroes. As to how much those coils weighed, that fact doesn't matter as much as the rate of falling speed does--the phantom's arms are now tied and pinned to his side, and the momentum of the heaviest objects he's ever encountered are dragging him down to earth, and gaining more power as he struggles to use his energy powers to break out... As he fell, he saw reality crack around him--or so it appeared to be. A fracture here, a shard there--and a small black jet tore out of the nothingness. Inside the jet, the Dark Knight gripped a lever, and he fell out of the bottom of it. He landed on the falling form of the phantom, who had broken the sound barrier within a few seconds of his descent. The Dark Knight had less than three seconds to do what he had to--he grabbed hold of the phantom, tore off the top of his mask, and removed the metal headband underneath it. Without the phantom's aura protecting it, it vaporized before it hit the earth. The Dark Knight's costume had been on fire ever since he first touched the phantom's superhot form, and he now disengaged--he leapt off the phantom, and cryo-foam containers burst on his body, putting out the flames--his cape became unattached to his costume, and he used it as a parachute, and got a massive nosebleed and headache from de-accelerating. But he survived. The phantom's descent continued, he soon saw where he would crash--a massive grey cushion. Only it wasn't a cushion--it was Finny, albeit barely alive. He had used his shapeshifting powers to turn into a trampoline of sorts--when the phantom hit him, he bounced, flying back into space--his speed tripled, the heat around his body and coil-induced weight crushing him increased, and he hit Mars at just under the speed of light. And it really, really hurt. The phantom's last thought was simple--to concentrate enough to teleport. Without his headband, it was difficult, and with his injuries, even moreso--but he focused, and focused, and refused to let the great weight push him down...and ultimately, he became trapped at the center of the planet, all his energy absorbed by the coils, he'd given them enough power to last for a million years. His strength was useless, because of the great weight, and his invulnerabilty barely existant. But he was alive--alive, and trapped forever. On earth, the battletrak picked up Finny's rapidly-melting form, his control over his shapeshifting gone. The Dark Knight was also in critical condition, and once they knew Sersi and NTU were all right, Matt and Travis flew back to Seattle... End Fin Fang Foom *flies away* Fin Fang Foom |
|
Copyright © Looksmart, Ltd. 1997-1999.
All rights reserved.