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The Composite Shamelessly Derived Peter Porter's Schooldays (Parts One to Five) (Lengthy text, maybe best printed & read) Friday, 10-Sep-1999 15:34:46
Part One: In Which Peter Receives an Invitation to St Kurtzbergs. You may already know that Peter Porter's parents were tragically killed in a automobile accident when he was a mere babe in arms. According to his Aunt April and Uncle Dennis, Peter had been in the car but had something of a miraculous escape, in fact the only evidence that he had been in the accident were faint circular scars on the palms of his hands, which, it was thought, he must have gained after clutching something that was burning hot in the wreckage. Peter is twelve years old now, rather skinny, with a flop of unruly hair and round framed spectacles held together with knobs of sellotape. The reason they are held together with tape is because of the number of times he has been punched in the face by the Junior High bully, Vincent De'ath, or one of his gang. Vincent had mercilessly intimidated Peter throughout Junior High for no other reason than he could. Perhaps as a result of this Peter had developed something of a seventh sense - a sort of 'I smell trouble sense' - and a surprising turn of speed and agility when the situation demands. In a weeks time Peter would be starting Mundan High School. Unfortunately, so would Vincent. "Ya can't run forever, Porter!" Yelled De'ath, "We'll be waitin' at school fer ya!" Peter remained unmoving behind the pyramid display of breakfast cereal boxes. De'ath and his cronies had spotted him while he had been out shopping for Aunt April. He waited until he heard the furious store owner eject his persecutors before coming out hiding. He left the shop by the rear exit, spotting De'ath lurking in the car park but avoiding being spotted in turn. Finally making it home he found a rather sad looking Uncle Denis and Aunt April at the kitchen table, a large, unopened envelope, patterned after the stars and stripes, sitting squarely in the middle. "Yer Aunt an' I were kinda expectin' this Petey. Kinda hopin' it wouldn't've happen, but I reckon we both knew it would." Uncle Den gently patted April's hand as she dabbed at a tear with her hankie. "What is it?" Asked Peter. "Reckon you oughta open it, Pete." Urged Uncle Den. He picked up the envelope, reading the address. Definitely for Mr Peter Porter. He clumsily sliced it open with his finger and removed the letter within: It was on paper headed 'St Kurtzberg's Residential Academy for Super-Beings.' It read: 'Dear Mr Porter, Apologies for the delay in writing, but you will be pleased to know that I can formally offer you a place in the first year of the St Kurtzberg Academy this coming semester. Please find enclosed travelling information, a checklist of items you will require for your first year and a copy of the Academy rules. I trust you will enjoy you time at St Kurtzbergs and will bring continued glory to the Academy during your stay and well beyond your graduation. You should be aware that during the enrolment ceremony you will be allocated an Academy House, an appropriate superheroic pseudonym and costume, so please ignore any unsolicited mail concerning 'Superhero Mail Order' or 'You Too Can Have Super Powers' offers. Yours sincerely, F Steinberg (Admissions)' Peter was stunned. His mind was bursting with a jumbled mess of questions - he quickly glanced through the other pages of the letter; the travel itinerary looked pretty ordinary; the Academy rules looked long and complicated - stuff about use of powers on Academy premises - flying in the corridors - proper housing of super pets - individual House rules... He'd look through them later; the list of things he'd need to take with him, on the other hand, looked fantastically bizarre; One leotard (plain white); Optional footwear and cape (also plain white); Level 1 cunning mechanical or magical contrivance of your choice; Optional level 1 super pet of your choice; Alter ego street clothes (1 set)... It went on, but his attention was pulled to the booklist; 'The History of Superherodom' by Prof WG Hedd 'Origins of the Modern Superhero' by SM Leiber 'Devising and Maintaining an Utterly Convincing Alter Ego' by Kevin Kent 'An Introduction to Scientific Adventuring' by Prof W Witchuds 'Being One With the Dark' by Bruce Cane (optional) 'An Introduction to the Hanky Panky Box of Magic' by Dr S Weirdun (optional) 'Power over the Ant' by Dr Harry Pimms (optional) "W-W-Where an I going to get all this stuff from?" Stammered Peter. "Don't worry, Peter dearest." Sniffed Aunt April, "Like your Uncle Denis said, we've been sort of expecting this." "B-But, it's not just that - I haven't got a superpower, have I?." to be continued... Part Two: In Which Peter Goes Shopping with his Uncle and Aunt. Peter Porter sat in the rear of the severely rust compromised Fiat 124 looking at the backs of his Aunt's and Uncle's heads, his stomach lurching between excitement and anxiety. When he'd come down to the kitchen for breakfast that morning Uncle Den had made the announcement that today they would be travelling into the city to buy the things Peter would need for his first year at Saint Kurtzberg's Residential Academy for Super-Beings. His Aunt and Uncle had then continued to fend off his usual barrage of questions with the standards 'I don't really know...' and 'you'll find that out in good time...' or 'just wait and see...'. After driving through a maze of city streets for some considerable time, to Peter's surprise Uncle Den pulled into a narrow, rather grubby, alley marked as a dead end and parked the protesting little car behind a large dumpster. Together they walked up to the end of the alley, Uncle Den counted a number bricks from the right and up, looked around to satisfy himself they were not being watched, then pushed one of the bricks. A section of the wall flipped away from them revealing a short tunnel. Not too far in the distance Peter could see knots of people milling around dozens and dozens of canopied market stalls. As they emerged from the tunnel Peter could now make out that the bustling throng of shoppers and stall holders were liberally dotted with garish lycra-clad individuals, some extraordinarily tall with sweeping capes, or scantily clad bathing suited beauties side by side with monstrous semi-humanoid beings with lime green crazily paved hides and a few ethereal beings, carelessly gliding through solid objects... "A Heroes 'n' Heroines Mart." Said Uncle Den. "They're held all over the world fer super folks to buy and sell the stuff they need for their never ending struggle against the forces of evil. Yer Aunt an' I only got wind o' this un 'cos you'll be goin' to St Kurtzbergs this year." The market stood in the central well of four adjoining buildings, each building effectively forming a towering wall on each side of the market. Uncle Den wound a path through the alleys of stalls and extraordinary jostling shoppers - there was an electrifying hubbub, great swathes of dazzling colors, a heady cocktail of enticing and noxious smells and all manner of wonderfully bizarre things for sale:- "IQ of 500 but can't remember the name of your alter-ego? Improve your recall with Dr M Thinker's self improvement tapes only $2.99 each, or $5 for two." barked a rather overweight man with wild hair and round spectacles, disturbingly similar to Peter's in style. A large hoarding with several eye-catching demonstrative photographs read; 'Super-Heroine Support Wear; avoid those embarrassing jiggling moments during the pursuit of crime with the amazing Uplift-anti-grav-support-brassiere. For the more fulsome heroine $39.99!' Uncle Den's head turned nearly 180 degrees as they walked by that stall. Aunt April huffed and deliberately picked up the pace. 'You can't be a Hero with crooked teeth - perfect while-you-wait bridgework from $49.95!' 'Special McHero Burger, fries and cola only $4.99 at McHoward's; the home of the Hero' "No X-Ray Vision of your own? Then the Amazing X-Ray Spectacles are for YOU! - great for spotting concealed weapons. $1 a pair." Purred an over-made up young woman in a tight-fitting white costume. Uncle Den lingered by this stall for some time until Aunt April pulled him away, feebly protesting that Peter needed a cunning mechanical contrivance as part of his school kit. Aunt April tersely pointed out that there was only one reason a near-teenage boy would use X-ray spectacles; the same reason Uncle Den would be using them for - besides which they didn't need to buy one. 'Level 1 Super Pets; Amazing Sea Monkeys - your edge in the fight against aquatic crime $2.99 per pack'. Peter's attention was pulled to a stall selling second hand comic books. Oddly most of the books were in monotone black and white and carried weird titles like; 'All Pedestrian Adventures' featuring 'The Day Norbert Phelps Repaired His Garden Fence!' and 'Harriet Greengage Goes Shopping!' or 'Bob's Tuesday Afternoon at the Office!'. Peter noticed a thin, blond boy, about his age, also looking at the comics on the stall. A tall, rake of a man dressed in an all-in-one blood-red leotard cowl and cape (which was incidentally lined in black), strode past them, "Stop looking at that rubbish, Severus." He snapped, "It'll rot your brain." The boy quickly followed in the man's wake, making great pretence that hadn't been looking at all. Uncle Den purchased reasonable second hand copies of 'The History of Superheroism' by Prof WG Hedd; 'Origins of the Modern Superhero' by SM Leiber; a rather battered edition of 'An introduction to Scientific Adventuring' by Prof W Witchuds; and, after some haggling, got a very tatty 'Power Over the Ant' by Dr Harry Pimms, thrown in for nothing. They had to buy a new 'Devising and Maintaining an Utterly Convincing Alter Ego' by Kevin Kent, which made more of a dent in their funds than they'd anticipated. They were now at the edge of the stalls and Peter could see that there were a number of shop fronts inset into the buildings which made up the skyscraping walls of the market. They stood outside one with the sign 'Messrs Critchley and Fibbes, Bespoke Tailors of Heroic Repute'. The window displayed three mannequins, each decked in various hues of lurid lycra, one with a majestic crimson cape, another armed with something that looked like a multi-barrelled car engine and the third wearing a very skimpy aquamarine bathing suit sprinkled with silver sequin stars. "Should've used a female mannequin for that one." thought Peter. A poster in the window read 'Back to School Wear - Now in Stock'. "This's the place." Said Uncle Den and he held open the door for Peter and Aunt April to enter. The shop was quite dull inside, a few headless yet fully costumed mannequins and dark wood panelling covered with hundreds of black and white photographs of incredibly muscled men, voluptuously curvaceous women, or the occasional indeterminate being - pictures of physical and dental perfections posing happily with one or two short, balding men with tape measures draped around their necks. Peter recognised the elderly man behind the counter as one of those in the photographs. Looking up from sewing something into the lining of a midnight blue cowl and cape set, "Can I help you?" He asked in a friendly tone. "We're after a St Kurtzberg first year costume. For our nephew, Peter." Said Aunt April. "First floor." He smiled and nodded towards the stairs at the rear of the shop, "There'll be somebody up there who'll be able help." There were several family groups on the rather large first floor, each there, Peter assumed, for the same reason they were. A young assistant helped Aunt April pick out a number of plain white costumes and two styles of cape. Uncle Den's attention wandered over to a display of unusual sports equipment. A thoroughly bored looking boy emerged from one of the changing rooms and eyed Peter with a disdainful air. It was the same boy he'd seen at the comic book stall, the one the man had called Severus, but he gave no indication that he recognised Peter, "Your first costume?" He asked carelessly. "Er... Yes." Replied Peter. "For Saint Kurtzbergs." "Really?" Severus was clearly interested by this piece of information, "I'm going there myself this year. Ridiculous how they make one start with a white costume, I have several at home I could use. Which House are you hoping for, by the way, I'm only interested in Psi Psi Omega - any of the others and I'll just walk out." The tall, thin, sharp nosed man he'd seen with the boy earlier swept out of the changing room and glared at them, "Severus!" He hissed, "How often have I instructed you not to fraternise with beings without my consent - this boy is with 'pedestrians'!" The boy looked at Peter as though he was something he'd scraped from the bottom of his shoe "My apologies, sir." He said to the man, "My innate ability to attract followers can be a curse on occasion." The pair strode away, the man muttering "They'll let any trash into St Kurtzberg's these days - ever since the Great Chuter was hounded from his rightful office the place has gone from rack to ruin..." Aunt April called Peter over to try on one of the costumes she had selected. Although they were all a blank white many of them were complicated designs, some employing underarm webbing, others with elaborate patterned outlines, but the all-in-one Peter tried on was possibly the plainest one of the entire collection. The material felt very peculiar, quite like a second skin, which, brought with it the uncomfortable sensation that he was actually naked. He slipped the baggy belted shorts on, but the naked feeling coupled with his desperate skinniness (and the fact that a semi-concealing optional cape proved to be too much of a strain on his Uncle's and Aunt's budget) meant Peter simply stood there, blushing furiously. Unilaterally deciding that this was the one, Aunt April instructed Uncle Denis to hand over his credit card, at which point the shop assistant visibly blanched, "Porter? You said he was Peter? The Peter Porter?" Uncle Denis and Aunt April were smiling proudly, "Yup!" Confirmed Uncle Den, "The one an' only." The shop assistant disappeared (literally - in a puff of purplish-grey vapor) only to reappear moments later with the elderly gentleman from the ground floor. There were many broad smiles, much shaking of hands and posing for photographs. Other families in the shop gathered to watch the show, but the thin man and the boy Peter had met earlier were not among them. With characteristic humble pride, Aunt April and Uncle Denis graciously refused the offers of several free costumes and accessories and, bombarded by good wishes, they eventually managed to leave the shop, in absolutely no doubt of what an honor it had been for Critchley and Fibbes to outfit the Peter Porter with his first costume. Dazed, and still blushing a beetroot red, Peter managed to ask, "What was that all about?" "We weren't sure people would remember, Peter dearest." Said Aunt April. "Phooey!" rumbled Uncle Denis, "How could they fergit somethin' like that?" "Remember what?" Continued Peter. "Yer famous Pete." Said Uncle Den, "P'raps one o' the most famous superheroes there's ever bin." "Famous? What am I famous for?" Part Three: The St Kurtzberg's Special. Nearly twelve years before Peter Porter first heard this tale, the superhero community of Gothopolis was riven with fear and distrust. Superheroes were rarely seen in those days, hiding or seeking desperate ways of protecting themselves from the bane claiming to be one of their own; Wertheim, the Lord Herophage [pr. Herro-farj]. Dozens of heroes and heroines actually turned-coat and became simpering acolytes, lending their strength to his twisted parody of heroism, but for those he could not turn there was only one other option and many of the strongest, the most powerful and courageous chose the ultimate sacrifice rather than aid or abet his insane vision. For a time it seemed nobody could stand against him. However, there was one brave couple, they too died at his merciless hands, but then something quite astonishing happened when the monster turned his diabolical attention to their new-born son. For some inexplicable and miraculous reason the demon was unable to destroy this helpless child - his power dissipated and his corporeal form ripped asunder, the only remaining evidence of the Herophage were the two circular scars left on the palms of his last intended victim. So, on the eve of taking his leave for the St Kurtzberg Residential Academy for Super-Beings, Peter Porter discovered what his parents really were, how they really died, and his own part in the destruction of the most dire threat superkind had ever faced. Sitting up his bed, far too nervously excited to sleep, Peter looked at the faint marks on the palms of his hands. He wasn't too sure how he felt; he was supposed to have destroyed one of the most powerful super-beings there'd ever been, but he couldn't remember how, or indeed, anything about the incident at all and now he faced the prospect of joining the prestigious St Kutzbergs with no idea of what he could actually do. One thing he was sure about; for the first time in a long time he felt he missed his mother and father. Peter, his Aunt and Uncle walked through the near legendary Grand Central Station, three of the thousands of people streaming around the great cathedral to the railway, "Uh, Uncle Den." Said Peter, "The platforms are the other way." "S'awright, Pete." Reassured his Uncle, "We aint headin' fer the ordinary platforms." They walked past a huge bank of storage lockers and off towards the public lavatories. Rather furtively Uncle Denis ducked into a side corridor, then appeared moments later, frantically signalling for Peter and Aunt April to follow his lead. They stood outside a narrow door labelled 'cleaning supplies'. "Yer Aunt an' I have got platform tickets, so we'll see yuh onto th' train. Shall I go first?" He asked Aunt April. "Take his case and wait for us on the other side, Denis." "Course I will." Rumbled Uncle Den, "D'yuh think I'd go wonderin' off, or somethin'?" He handed tickets to Peter and Aunt April. Hoisting Peter's luggage under his arm, Uncle Den held a third ticket at arms length and, with noticeable trepidation, walked straight through the cleaning supplies door, making a slight fizzing noise. Peter and his Aunt emerged through one of hundreds of narrow doors which led to platform PSG2, the "train" waiting there was awesome - a sleek blue and chrome bullet, hovering a few feet off the ground, five bulbous engines humming powerfully and emitting slight plumes of small black bubbles. Stuck inside some of the carriage windows were signs that read 'St Kurtzberg Special'. Dozens of people were wrestling trunks, backpacks and cases onto the train, and exchanging hugs and tears. Aunt April was already dabbing her cheeks, "Now Peter, promise me you'll write, find out where the laundry is, don't forget to wash behind your ears..." "Don't fuss over th' boy April." Said Uncle Den, "He'll be fine. We'll be waiting here to pick you at the end of semester Pete." "Thanks Uncle Denis - Aunt April." He kissed her on the cheek and turned to climb aboard the silver missile. "Pete!" Called uncle Denis, "There's one more thing." he pulled a brown paper parcel from the inside of his jacket, "It's a, er, cape. It was your, um... Father's... the, um, clasp's missin' so it don't do what it's meant to any more, but we kinda thought you'd like it." With great reverence Peter took the parcel and, manfully fighting to stifle the swelling building in his throat, firmly shook hands with his Uncle Den. Peter settled himself in an empty eight-seater carriage and couldn't resist unpacking the cape - a startling shimmering silver, but it was several feet too long and couldn't be secured without the clasp. Slightly disappointed, he carefully repackaged it. Three boys, two of them identical twins, bungled themselves into the carriage in which Peter was seated. The twins introduced themselves as Eric and Derrick Ffiyps [pr. fipes] - they were going into their third year at St Kurtzbergs, the other boy was their younger cousin, Ron, who was attending for his first. There was a stunned silence when Peter introduced himself, suddenly followed by the same overwhelming hand shaking and back slapping he'd endured when purchasing his costume. Eric and Derrick, being third years, went off in search of some old friends, but it soon became apparent that they'd spread news of Peter about the 'train' as a steady stream of well wishers or neck-strainers filed past the carriage in which Peter and Ron were sitting. As the well-wishing activity subsided Ron lent Peter his copy of the latest 'All Pedestrian Adventures' featuring somebody called 'Norman'. "This issue he takes the day off work..." Enthused Ron, "...'phones in sick - and then watches TV all day - the thing is, he isn't really sick - it's brilliant characterisation!" "Yeah?" Said Peter, who still didn't quite get these comics. Ron asked if Peter had any preference about which Academy House he was allocated, "I don't really mind." He continued, "I suppose I'd prefer Theta Alpha, because Derrick and Eric are already there, but I don't mind too much - just as long as it's not Psi Psi Omega - that mob's turned out more vigilantes, psycho-berserkers, anti-heroes and turncoats than all the other houses put together." His voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper, "I don't know if it's true but they say that the Herophage himself was an Omega." "Oh." Said Peter, "That sort of fits with something I'd heard." A rather overweight hostess clattered her way along the gangway at the side of the carriage with a refreshments trolley. Ron bought several packets of 'Hero-Gallery-Gum', a box of 'Pimm Particles - the taste of the Kosmos!' and a can of the fizzy drink 'Attilian; inhumanly refreshing!'. Peter had never seen any of the things on the trolley before, but risked a can of 'Stark Recharge; Electrifying Energy Drink!', which turned out to be an understatement as Peter fought to flatten down his hair after the first sip. They both laughed and Ron gave Peter two packets of 'Hero-Gallery-Gum', which contained picture cards and biogs of famous superbeings. Much to Peter's surprise the pictures on the cards actually moved about, sometimes demonstrating various aspects of their powers or taking up some heroically meaningful pose. "We collect an' trade 'em." Explained Ron, "I'm really after Big Brenda's card - I've not seen it but Derrick says she's running after a villain without the aid of an anti-grav-support bra." Peter found in one of his packets a picture of WG Hedd, the Dean of St Kurtzbergs. The man in the picture was dozing in a rocking chair, very old, thinning white hair and wire framed spectacles hanging from the end of his nose. He was dressed in a woolly navy blue cardigan, baggy checked shirt, loose braced pants and tartan slippers, a blue balaclava fitted with a small pair of wings rested on his lap. The picture of the old man suddenly awoke, as it startled by something, seemed to look directly at Peter, smiled, winked and then settled himself back into his nap. Peter flipped over the card; 'WG Hedd. Third Dean of St Kurtzbergs. One of the heroes most honored and admired by his peers, he has now guided neophyte heroes and heroines through their years at St Kurtzbergs for the past four decades. A lesser known member (due not in small measure to his great modesty) of the group credited with the joint discovery of the Perpetuity Complex'. "Porter?" Peter looked up at the smiling face of a thin, blond boy, flanked by two brutish looking thugs with no discernible necks. It was the boy he'd seen looking at the comics and had spoken to at Critchley and Fibbes. "Yes." Confirmed Peter. "Heard you were on the train - Severus Von Malvine, pleased to make your acquaintance." He thrust out a hand towards Peter. "I think we've met." Replied Peter. He decided not to take the hand. "Really?" The smile faded from Severus' face, "Well I meet lots of people, but it looks like you could do with some advise on who you're seen with, Porter." He glanced disdainfully at Ron, "They might come from a long line of established line of super-beings, but quite frankly micro-powers like the Ffiyps just don't cut the mustard, keeping that sort of company you'll never make Omega." Ron stood up, blushing furiously, "What's that supposed to mean?" He blurted, "You're a fine one to lecture on keeping bad company, Von Malvine." The two Neanderthals either side of Von Malvine began to grin and crack their knuckles - as Peter stood to take position beside Ron a girl pushed into the carriage between the two groups. Face set in a scowl she said, "You'd better get back to your seats, we're nearly at St Kurtzbergs." As Malvine and his grunts sauntered away with sneers on their faces the girl turned to Peter and introduced herself, "Lettis. Lettis Armstrong. I must say I'm quite disappointed how competitive you boys can be. I really would have expected more from Peter Porter." She strutted away with her nose slightly in the air, "Oh, sor_ry." Wined Ron, but Lettis had been right - they were nearly at St Kurtzbergs... Part Four: The Naming. The St Kurtzberg Special was flying quite low over a vast arid waste stretching from horizon to horizon. Absolutely humongous rust red monoliths of stone reared up to form sweeping ranges of mountains and stupendous gashes of canyons appeared as awesome tears in the fabric of the earth. The sleek missile train dipped into one of the great cuts in the ground and suddenly, it was there - a truly breath taking sight - St Kurtzberg's Residential Academy for Super Beings. The building itself was massive, something like a gigantic disassembled car engine turned inside out then reassembled by somebody without the slightest knowledge of mechanical devices. The harsh sun glinted sharply from its metallic surfaces as the train swept around to land on the far side of the Academy. As the students clamoured to disembark with their various forms of awkward luggage, a huge bare chested mountain of a man with wild red hair and beard, waved a pink umbrella in the air and bellowed for the first years to follow him, "That's Colin." Ron informed Peter, sagely, "Colin the librarian. It's an alter-ego of course, everybody knows that it's Donar and that umbrella he's carrying is Mjalcolm." Drinking from a can of beer he'd opened along the way, Colin the librarian led the encumbered first year students through a maze of narrow corridors and vast chambers crammed with all manner of blinking lights and humming machines, eventually into an antechamber with tables laid with food and drink. An elderly woman, grey hair pulled back into a tight bun, clapped and they quickly fell silent. "Thank you Colin, you may return to you duties." Belching loudly, their gargantuan guide trundled off, but just as he was going he looked directly at Peter, smiled broadly and winked. "Welcome to Saint Kurtzbergs, children." The woman continued, "I am Professor Hartless - and it's already been said by more than a few; Hartless by name, heartless by nature." She gave a thin smile and there were a few nervous laughs, "You will have something to eat after which you will enter the changing rooms to change into your costumes, we will then proceed into the Main Hall for the Naming." "What's the Naming?" Whispered Peter to Ron. "It's when we get our first superhero name, costumes sometimes change color and we get allocated into the Academy Houses." While they were eating Peter noticed Von Malvine piling his plate with lemons and limes. Peter later found out that the Von Malvine super-family had an inherited 'weakness'; they apparently needed to consume a quantity of bitter citrus fruit on a daily basis in order to avoid extreme fatigue, swollen gums and rather unsightly skin blemishes. The Main Hall was designed in a circular amphitheater style, all the surrounding seats occupied by quartered divisions of the Academy Houses and members of the faculty. The low buzz of voices subsided as Ms Hartless led the first years onto center stage. An unpleasantly thin, greasy haired man nudged Dean Hedd from a doze, "Wha...?" Asked the Dean reflexively, "oh, mm, right... Theta Alpha, Phi Phi, Xi Mu and Psi Psi Omega, all assembled? Yes? Let the Naming commence!" He eventually managed to say. Something roughly the size and shape of a large metallic cake mixing bowl, but with clumps of circuit boards and antennae protruding from it, descended from the Hall ceiling and hovered above the central podium. Professor Hartless took a slim electronic memo pad from her pocket and read, "Underwood, Neville Tarquin. Please take the stand beneath Cerebro." A wide-eyed young boy stepped nervously forward. Standing on the podium the cerebro slowly lowered itself over his head. Lights flashed, the bowl hummed, then it suddenly announced "THETA ALPHA, NTU-1." Each first year student took a turn beneath the bowl, occasionally it took some time, seemingly deliberating, while others were almost instantaneous - it barely got near Von Malvine before it yelled, "PSI PSI OMEGA, THE HOODED HOODLING!" His costume turned scarlet and he sauntered from the podium, a superior smirk of satisfaction on his face. He was soon followed by his stooges, Grubbe and Burke, who, rather surprisingly, retained the names Grubbe and Burke. Each allocation to an Academy House was greeted with applause and cheering from the veteran students of the respective Houses. Ron was given the name Visi-Ron-Ary (he later chose to drop an 'R') and was welcomed by a distinctly louder cheer from his cousins when he was allocated to Theta Alpha. The girl Peter had met on the train, Lettis Armstrong, was given the rather confusing name First-first-first-last-two-second-first and was also directed to Theta Alpha. Peter noticed Ron close his eyes and slap his forehead as that announcement was made. Peter was now one of the dwindling number of students still awaiting a turn; after some time the Shakespearially named Banquo Jones - a painfully thin boy with seemingly fixed grin, very spiky hair and never without a plastic bag full of water - was draughted into Phi Phi as Banjo (he later turned his name into something of a battle-cry); an extremely hyper boy called Boxleitner joined Xi Mu and was given the name CS Freak Boy (nobody knew what the 'CS' stood for at the time, but after the culprit of a series of raids on the refectory was apprehended later that year, it all became clear.); an alarmingly precocious girl, who made Peter feel strangely uncomfortable, was given the name Mega Foxxx (after graduation she went on to become something of a fantasy icon for the porn-inspired comic book illustrator and adolescent readers going through that difficult stage), she glanced over her shoulder, fluttered her eyelashes at Peter and minced over to join Psi Psi Omega to a barrage of wolf whistles and panting from that quarter. "Porter, Peter." Read Professor Hartless from her list. A hissing of whispers broke out around the Hall as Peter stepped forward to take his place beneath the bowl. His stomach turning somersaults, the Cerebro slowly descended until it totally concealed his view of the assembly. Peter heard a voice in his left ear, "Ooh, what a difficult one." The voice circled his head, "What for you? Tricky. Very Tricky. Xi Mu? Mmmm, perhaps too introspective. Phi Phi? Maybe. But Psi Psi Omega... Yes, Omega could help you become one of the greats - really great..." "No!" Thought Peter, "Definitely not Psi Psi Omega!" "No?" Replied the cerebro, "You're sure about that?" "Certain!" "Okay, I guess it has to be... THETA ALPHA," It said to the assembly, "THE AMALGAMATOR!" There was an absolutely thunderous burst of cheering and stamping of feet, the chant "WE GOT PORTER - WE GOT PORTER- WE GOT PORTER!" reverberating around the Hall from the Theta Alphan contingent. Peter was so stunned it was a while before he noticed that his costume was still plain white, but the faint outline of an encircled letter 'A' had appeared on his chest. Part Five: The Occult and Mystic Arts Master. As the Naming ended Dean Hedd climbed, rather unsteadily, to his feet, "Ahem!" He said. The hubbub created by Peter's allocation to Theta Alpha quickly subsided. "Before you all go I have a few start-of-semester announcements." He announced, "During summer recess there have been a few problems with the local wildlife, you should rest assured that our librarian is currently dealing with the matter, but I particularly want to emphasise the importance of Academy rule 3; that it is forbidden to venture into the desert surrounding the Academy grounds." He paused, probably for dramatic affect, then cleared his throat before continuing, "Quincunx trials will be held during the second week of the semester, anybody interested should contact Mr Hall." Quincunx was apparently an immensely popular exclusively superheroic kind of game, Ron had attempted to explain the rules during the train journey, but it still remained a mystery to Peter, besides which students only learned the requite flying techniques during their first year at the Academy, first years never played in the House teams. Dean Hedd paused again and moved his spectacles onto his forehead in order to study a small piece of paper, "Ah yes, Mr Scroop, the janitor, has asked me to remind you that use of super powers - in particular flying - is forbidden in corridors between lessons. And I would like to stress that the third level of the Tower of Heck is strictly out of bounds to anyone who does not want to die a horrible and painful death." There were a few nervous laughs from the first years. "He's not serious, is he?" Whispered Peter to Ron. "Probably." Replied Ron, matter-of-factly, "Eric and Derrick are always going on about the stuff wandering around in the desert - escaped experiments; all kinds of mutations; stranded extra terrestrials; giant insects; phased ghostie type things - they've probably got a nasty one locked up in the tower." "The Goodman-Liebowitz House Shield," continued Dean Hedd, "has kindly been returned by last years victorious House Master, Dr Goethe." There was a lot of foot stamping and whistling from the Psi Psi Omegas, intermingled with groans from students of the other houses. Omega had won the House Shield for six years running, due in no small measure to their continuing dominance on the Quincunx field in the Gardner Cup Competition. Peter noticed during the cheering that the Dean smiled at the unpleasant looking man who had nudged him awake for the Naming Ceremony. He received a cringingly false smile in return, the muscles in Goethe's face apparently protesting at such a clearly alien activity, "As you may know," continued the Dean, "Students will be awarded house points by the faculty for exemplary achievements, but will be deducted points for any breaches of school rules. Right then, thank you for your time," he concluded, "I trust you will all endeavour to do your best for your respective houses this coming year." Dr Goethe nudged Dean Hedd again and whispered something to him, "Oh yes, sorry, one more thing, would the first years remain behind, you will be escorted to your dormitories by your House Masters, the rest of you are dismissed." The other students began to noisily file out of the Hall while members of the faculty milled around chatting among themselves. Peter recognised Professor Witchuds from his portrait on his copy of 'An Introduction to Scientific Adventuring', he was engaged in what looked like a controlled but intense conversation with Dr Goethe. Peter could only see the back of Prof Witchuds head but Goethe was whispering with a livid expression on his face - it was then Goethe noticed Peter watching them. A look of pure hatred in Goethe's eyes, Peter suddenly felt a searing pain in his head and a burning sensation in the palms of his hands. "C'mon Peter, Professor Hartless is taking us to our dorm." Said Ron, "Hey, you all right?" "Uh?" Peter turned away from Witchuds and Goethe and shook his head to clear it, "Yeah, I think so." As they followed Professor Hartless Peter asked, "Ron, that teacher, Dr Goethe, do you know anything about him?" "Goethe? Nasty piece of work, always picking on Alphans, Eric and Derrick have had loads of points deducted by him. He shares Intro to the Occult and Mystic Arts with Professor Hartless, but he specialises in the murkier bits. He's also the Omega's House Master." The look in Goethe's eyes would turn out to be something that would stay with Peter Porter for quite some time. Mr Pi |
| The Smaelessly Derived Peter Porter's Schooldays (Part Six: Down To Study) (Mr Pi) (10-Sep-1999 15:29:57) |
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