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killer shrike
Sat Dec 25, 2004 at 08:13:23 am EST
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The Adventures of Alcheman #15
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The Adventures of Alcheman #15


“Blow Canada”


Previously: High school teacher Michael Wooster gave his classes an assignment that was near and dear to the fledgling superhero’s heart: the role of metahumans in society. Jenni and Trudi Wooster had an unexpected encounter with mutate rights activist De Brown Streak. And Inspector Rosario Hudson of the Royal Canadian Mechanized Police was one step closer to catching up with the Efficienado, a Robo American who plotted to destroy Canada. For the continuity minded this takes place before Alcheman/Hatman #1-6.

A trio of smart looking teenagers wandered into the Bean and Donut Coffee Bar, looking for a caffeine rush and a bit of inspiration.

“We could do it on this place,” Ezekial Harwoodley offered, referencing the cozy restaurant in which they now sat, “Supposedly this is a hang out for all types of superheroes. We could see how their attendance affects business.”

“The topic is Meta Civics, not Meta Micro Economics,” Steadman Fleck countered as he set up his laptop.

Milla Gastronov agreed, “Other than the photos on the wall, I’ve never seen a superhero in here.”

An attractive young waitress with improbably long jet black hair came to their table, “What can I get you guys?”

“An internet jack, for starters,” Steadman muttered.

“I’m sorry. We’re fresh out. Maybe some vegetarian chili instead?”

After the three gave their orders Milla went back to brainstorming, “I still say the TransWorld Challenge is the best topic.”

“Everyone will be doing it on the Challenge.”

“So? We find a new hook.”

“Such as?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“Brilliant,” Steadman snarked, “This entire project is retarded anyway.”

“Dude, I still can’t believe you busted Wooster’s chops again about the ACT test,” Ezekial shook his head.

“Someday he’s going to snap and put your head through a wall,” Milla hoped.

“Wooster needs to realize some of us count on those test scores for grants and scholarships to college. We’re not all from the manor born.”

Ezekial rolled his eyes, “This again? I’m telling you, Wooster’s not connected to the department store chain.”

Steadman Fleck nodded sagely, “Yes, he is. My uncle does contract work for one of its corporate officers, and he said that the family disinherited him years ago. He knocked up a maid or something.”

“Thank you, Dominick Dunne. Can we please get back to the project?” Milla said, exasperated.

“Why don’t we look at the Aryan Ideal and the Pogroms of Purity? It relates to the topic and it’s controversial enough so you know nobody else will choose it.”

Steadman concurred, “That’s actually a good idea.”

Their waitress brought their orders, “Now there’s two phrases you don’t hear together often: “Aryan Ideal” and “good idea.” You guys working on a project for school?”

“We’re supposed to look at a way superheroes affect society, you know, beyond the usual save the world stuff,” Ezekial explained a bit too completely for Steadman’s liking.

“Well, that’s different. And then you, what, write a report on it?”

“Report? We wish. We have to put together a multi-media, learner-directed presentation, using primary sources and allowing for open ended inquiry and discussion,” Steadman explained.

“And it’s got to be at least twenty minutes long,” Ezekial intoned solemnly.

“Wow. Hogan Academy really puts its students through their paces, don’t they?” Sarah Shepherdson asked to no one in particular, though she did plan to question someone specific later on.

*****


“Don’t just yank on it,” Jenni Wooster told her sister Trudi, “Be gentle.”

Joshua Clement agreed, “Yeah. Try wiggling it from side to side first.”

“You two make it sound as though I’ve never done this before,” Trudi Wooster pouted as she wet her fingers.

“Excuse me,” Michael Wooster interrupted from the doorway to his townhouse, “Ah, hello?”

Clement looked up and saw a broad-shouldered man in shirtsleeves and suspenders looming over him and the girls laying sprawled on the living room floor.

“Michael!” Jenni enthused, upending the coffee table and their game of Jenga as she bounded up to hug her brother. Josh rose as well, though not as excitedly.

“Michael? You must be the M Wooster I’m looking for,” DBS nodded, “Hey.”

“And you’re Joshua Clement, De Brown Streak,” Michael offered his hand, “I’m an admirer of your work.”

The mutate freedom fighter/ ladies’ man wasn’t used to this kind of reaction, especially from older brothers to nubile women. They shook hands.

“You’ve been e-mailing a lot of pro-mutate message boards, which, incidentally, is bound to get you on Herbert Garrick’s hit list, so expect to get audited some time soon.”

“I was willing to assume that risk. The information I’m looking for is essential for my research.”

Jenni beamed, “No sense fudging the truth, Michael; we told Josh you’re a superhero.”

Michael sighed- first Honoria, and now this, “Such disclosure defeats the purpose of me having a secret identity.”

“Yeah, anyway, my contacts, er, contacted me, and since I had a few seconds to spare, I decided to answer your questions in person. Of course, I didn’t expect to encounter your charming sisters, here.”

“It was indeed serendipitous,” Trudi agreed with a knowing nod.

“Indeed,” Alcheman said, “I do have some questions for you, Mr. Clement, about the Committee for the Occulation of Paranormal Experiences, and a man named Cyrus Honig.”

*****


The Efficienado rose from his first class seat aboard Maiden Air Flight 343 to London and swatted aside an approaching stewardess. With great speed he charged the cockpit, ripping its reinforced steel door from its hinges. He hoisted both pilots from their seats and drove their heads together, then hurled them forcefully into the navigator.

It was an easy enough task to install the technology that had enabled him to evade the Paradopolis Airport’s own security into the plane. While it was downloading the Efficienado propped up the door and welded it shut with his retractable soldering iron. Then he took the captain’s chair and steered the plane back towards his target.

Back towards Paradopolis.

*****


“Nope. Sorry,” De Brown Streak shook his head after he completed reading COPE’s literature, “I’ve never heard of these guys. Which is a shame, because if they’re sincere, they could go a long way to helping my people, just with the day to day stuff. Employment, housing, etcetera.”

“I very much doubt that they are sincere. COPE seems to be more interested in quashing would-be superheroes more than any type of genuine relief work,” Michael showed the Sepia Speedster a sheaf of letters, “I contacted several meta human prisons in order to ask them about any contacts they may have had with COPE. You would figure an organization interested in mainstreaming super-powered individuals would focus on those with decidedly anti-social tendencies. And yet none of the people I communicated with ever heard of the group.”

“Hm,” Josh leaned back in one of Michael’s kitchen chairs, “Maybe I’m the wrong person to say this, being the unregistered mutate outlaw and all, but even if what you’ve found out is true, what they’re doing isn’t illegal.”

“It’s immoral, and should be exposed as such,” Michael said gravely.

DBS shrugged, “No argument there. I’m just saying if it’s an arch enemy you’re looking for, Velcro Vixen is a lot more entertaining.”

“I don’t think-” Michael began, before being interrupted by the hard charging Trudi.

“They just broke into Access Hollywood!” she announced, “A plane has been hijacked out of Paradopolis!”

De Brown Streak became all business, “Can you fly?”

“Ah, to a point,” Alcheman was slipping on his mask.

“Let’s hope that point’s far enough,” he grabbed his fellow hero and blurred to the airport.

*****


Once at the control tower the pair encountered a setback traditional to the genre: uncooperative authorities.

“Somebody call security!” the chief Air Traffic Controller repeated himself. DBS sighed and blurred away. In a moment he returned with a score of jingling handcuff keys.

“They’re busy. Someone, I’m not naming names, shackled them to the railing.”

Alcheman fell into his genetically predisposed role of ‘Good Cop,’ “We’re here to help. If you could tell us the plane’s current location, we could intercept it.”

“You are interfering in matters of national security!” the man screeched back, “You’re, you’re nothing more than a couple of Osama Bin Ladens!”

“I fail to see the reasoning behind your assertion, sir.”

“He can’t help you,” M.O.U.N.T.-E said as she entered the room, “They’ve lost contact with the plane.”

DBS and Alcheman turned to acknowledge the young woman in the dark trenchcoat.

“Lost contact? Then the plane has already crashed?” Michael worried.

The woman shrugged out of her coat, revealing a stylized red and gold catsuit, “No. It’s just shielded. The hijacker is using Robo American Stealthware.”

“Really?” Josh had had dealings with the secretive underground subculture in the past, “You seem awfully well-informed, in addition to well-toned. What’s your name, Sweetness?”

“I’m Inspector Rosario Hudson, of the RCMP. Now, if you’ll let me install some countermeasures to Efficienado’s countermeasures, we can see where he’s headed.”

The dark-skinned agent of the Royal Canadian Mechanized Police unscrewed her left arm and withdrew the required technology to make the airport’s radar workable again.

“Wow,” DBS whistled, “You come with accessories.”

Inspector Hudson smiled once she was done with her tech work, “A bit more utilitarian than the modifications your Compandroid friends had implanted.”

“Compandroids? Oh, the Sex Bots.”

“Sex Bots?” Alcheman echoed in surprised wonder. Superheroing in the Parodyverse was becoming ever more surreal.

“Gentlemen, we have contact,” M.O.U.N.T.-E examined the radar screen, “Flight 343 has diverted from its course and appears to be coming in for a landing…. here,” she pointed at a spot on the grid, “Now, let me match up those coordinates to my onboard atlas program-“

“You’re real useful to have around. Maybe when this is over we can have a team up that’s more private?” Josh flirted.

Rosario filed the offer in her Contacts Folder for later. Right now she had a more pressing issue.

“He’s taking the plane into restricted airspace. There’s a SPUD R+D installation located there.”

“This Efficienado fellow - what does he want?” Alcheman inquired

“To destroy Canada. Whatever SPUD’s working on there must be a means to that end,” Rosario stood and faced her newfound allies; “We are faced with a decision. If SPUD is notified they’ll have no choice but to shoot down the plane. If we opt to take on this responsibility ourselves and fail millions could perish.”

DBS knew his answer, “I’m going to need directions to the site, Rosie.”

The woman activated her aerial configuration, opening ports in between her shoulder blades and extending her jet pack. A clear plastic screen slid down from her brow, covering her eyes, “I can fly us there. And what about you?”

Alcheman tugged on his lower lip in contemplation, “I…. Yes. Yes, I’m in. Does anyone have a plan?”

“It will take me four minutes, sixteen seconds to intercept the flight,” M.O.U.N.T.-E adjudged, “Plenty of time to come up with one.”



Next: Blow Canada continues. A daring midair rescue. A spectacular plane crash. A monstrous evil unleashed. And teamwork. Lots of teamwork. Out soon.

Footnotes:

Alcheman #15 takes place before Alcheman #14, the Crisis crossover. It picks up on some plot points introduced in Alcheman #13, such as Michael’s Civics assignment to his students and DBS meeting the Wooster twins at Michael’s townhouse.

Bean and Donut Coffee Bar: is the Lair Legion’s favorite hangout, and also serves as the place of employment for Sarah Shepherdson, aka the Probability Dancer. We’ll see who she wants to talk to and why probably around Alcheman #17.

De Brown Streak: as previously mentioned, he puts in a cameo in Alcheman #13. Now we see why he was looking for “M Wooster.” There is a mention of Sex Bots in this story, a reference to events in De Brown Streak #6 or #7, when a villain uses the ‘Bots to trap our hero. DBS gets away, of course, and managed to er, liberate the ladies in question.

Robo Americans: are a secret race of self-producing androids, supposedly originally created by the scientist Weed Writchards. The late, lamented Mindy Pyrite was one, Rosario is another, as is the villainous Efficienado.




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