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Wave Three, A Friday, 10-Sep-1999 16:36:07
Invasion of the Gods, Wave Three A. We’re in Hell. Try imagine this in the terms of DC Comics’ Batman-related crossover, “No Man’s Land”, those of you who have yet to read this series. Except instead of Gotham, entire strands of dimensions and realities have fallen prey to beings that may or may not be Gods. Unlike “No Man’s Land”, the denizens of these fallen universes have been scrunched under the jack-booted heel of the invading “Greek Gods”, who have promptly claimed each dimension and universes’ resources as their own. Naturally, the universe that we’re most accustomed to, the Parodyverse, has been trampled also. And naturally, keeping in mind the mindset of the heroes who call the “Parodyverse” their home, they’ve launched counterstrikes. Unfortunately, these counterstrikes have pretty well written off the existence of every single major city mankind ever built, but that’s just the way war works, especially in interstellar and intercontinental battle-for-survival. Now, then, what exactly is the “Parodyverse”, you might be asking? Depending on whom you ask (and the author suggests forgetting even contemplating speaking to the one known as Visionary), it’s a special, creative, rather violently insane place created by an elite group of people known in some bizarre faction of reality known as “The Real World”, who used nicknames or names of favorite characters, added their own unique spin on them, and in time even created sidekicks and supporting casts for them. You may be thinking that this description sounds much more confusing than real life, but this author still insists that reality is fictitious, anyway. And besides, if one wanted to live in real life, where would one encounter androids-in-denial or sixteen-year-old boys whose best friends are symbiotic ferns? I’d take the Parodyverse over real life, but that’s just me. Now, then, to introduce myself. I’m a minor Raven in the Library of the Chronicler of Stories, which is one of those beings who seems to have been around since before God. Don’t ask me. I just tend to avoid here whenever possible. As of now, the host of the Chronicler’s essence is a being created by the previous Chronicler, who is now an apparently mortal man costumed as an urban legend/crime-fighting hero. Personally, I think he made the right job choice. Besides, the current Chronicler’s former occupation was to be a hyped-up clone of a former superhero named Jarvis, because the current Shaper of Worlds (another cosmic being who seems to be what the Parodyverse has for God around here) was Jarvis’ ex-girlfriend, and she eventually became, after she died, a low-rung cosmic being named “Jury”, then the Shaper. The previous Shaper was a poster named Carrington, who apparently died, lost something called an “Internet connection”, or was abducted by aliens working for the French Mafia. Hey, you asked. Now, then, to the action. The guy with the helmet and amulet being accosted by that unpleasant fellow with the titanium katanna and that seven-foot-long naginata? That’s Darkhwk, who’s very much afraid for his life at the moment. Our guy with the katanna and naginata is now, obviously, flying through the air like a punted football. Zane (Darkhwk), like most people, doesn’t appreciate having really long pointy things shoved in his face. So what he did was blast the temperamental gentleman in the black and dark green into something approximating next Tuesday. This is, of course, saying that Zane had been able to get off anything more than a glancing shot. You see, even if you’re messing with a master martial artist, you can’t forget that the girl who saved you (a really hot blonde with green eyes, decked out in a…form fitting…silver jumpsuit) is a telekinetic, who moments before saved your life. You can’t forget that she has the power to manipulate matter, and minds, with her mind. You remember this as you’re on the ground, gasping for air, as she telekinetically begins to gently crush your lungs like aluminum cans… The Hooded Hood refused to bow before the Chronicler of Stories, Shaper of Worlds, or especially the sniveling Samhain, Destroyer of Ideas. “I really don’t bloody care if you’re here to observe how successful or unsuccessful I am in saving Tina’s life. You’re going to take your cosmic, incompetent noses and butt out of my business. Purveyors of Peril, distract them. I have work to be done.” With that, the Hooded Hood gestured towards the inert form that was once Tina, telepathic girlfriend of NTU-150, a crippled technological genius who lived in a high-tech sardine can and was a member of the Parodyverse’s Lair Legion, the obligatory superhero group of the dimension, and retconned her death. Tina gasped in air, wrapped her arms around Jamie (NTU), then began to ponder ways of telepathically pickling the Hooded Hood’s brain and selling it for prices that would make Hitler’s brain seem less valuable than a penny cut in half. The Hooded Hood arched a ghostly, green-tinted eyebrow towards NTU. “Please… what your girlfriend is thinking of doing isn’t even close to amusing.” NTU muttered, “Tina…not now… he just saved your life.” The Hooded Hood grinned, a fairly terrifying concept in and of itself. “Come with me, Jamie and Tina… there is much to be done.” The Dark Knight hasn't time to post more than this, so forward all complaints to Visionary, my new complaints-handler and all around robotic secretary |
| Wave Three, A (The Dark Knight hasn't time to post more than this, so forward all complaints to Visionary, my new complaints-handler and all around robotic secretary) (10-Sep-1999 16:36:07) |
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