Tales of the Parodyverse

Post By

killer shrike
Sun Nov 20, 2005 at 01:46:33 am EST
Subject
The Adventures of Alcheman #21
[New] [Email] [Print] [RSS] [Tales of the Parodyverse]
 		Next In Thread >>

The Adventures of Alcheman #21


“Catching up with the Woosters”


Saquintia Washington took the podium and began her presentation:

“Resolved: House Bill 1066 should be passed by the Congress of the United States and signed into law by the President. 1066 is a long overdue remedy to the increasing number of metahumans that openly ignore the law of the land. Not only the criminals, the “supervillains,” but the “superheroes” as well, who act without accountability or consequence, and whose actions more often than not exacerbate the crises they seek to resolve. The federal government is only attempting to compel the metahumans to the same rule of law everyone else must follow. To allow these individuals “special dispensation” because of their abilities goes against the very principles our country was founded on. Thank you.”

The trim young lady in the dreadlocks and maroon blazer smiled and stepped aside from the lectern to allow her partner in the debate to elaborate on her statement.

Stalking up to the stage with a fierce expression, Kerry Shepherdson turned and glared at her audience.

“What that $%^&* bimbo said is the biggest load of @#$% ever spewed at this %^&*@ school,” she announced.

From his seat in the front of the auditorium Michael Wooster rubbed his temples and sighed.

*****


“OK, maybe I shouldn’t have called her a $%^&* bimbo,” Kerry admitted to her guardian.

“Maybe?! Maybe?!?” Visionary flapped his arms wildly as he paced outside the office of the headmaster to Hogan Academy. Waiting for the principal was an experience he did not particularly enjoy reliving.

The young woman immediately became defensive, “You should have heard the crap she was saying. She was slamming you and everyone you know!”

“Kerry, it was a debate! The girl was just making a point. In a manner that didn’t require the use of profanity.”

“Sh!” the receptionist glared at the man in the lemon topcoat. Chastened, Visionary sat on the bench next to his charge. He began to whisper.

“You’re going to get expelled. You’ll get expelled and we’ll lose your tuition-“

“So that’s why you’re so made! Its all about money,” Kerry huffed, “Money you probably want to spend on your leather-fetishist floozy of a girlfriend!”

“What? No! Its not my- Floozy?! Now see here, young lady,” the possibly fake man wagged his finger authoritatively, which drew a hearty laugh from the teen.

The door to the headmaster’s office opened and Michael Wooster poked his head out, “Mr. Visionary? We’re ready for you.”

*****


Headmaster Furillo was terrified, a frequent condition. For fear was an ever present factor in the life of a 21st century educator. He offered his hand to the current source of his consternation.

“Mr. Visionary, sir, we’re very sorry for what happened today.”

“Ah. Yes. That’s… OK. Ahm, you do know Kerry is the curser, not the cursee'?”

“Of course. But Miss Shepherdson’s reaction, while perhaps a biit extreme, was warranted, given the circumstances.”

Kerry brightened at the possibility of having her tirade validated. She smirked at Vizh.

Mr. Furillo elaborated, “Mr. Wooster put Kerry in an uncomfortable position by involving her in a debate which such personal stakes, given her connections to you and your associates. An alternate topic should have been given for her to complete. Hogan Academy strives to promote tolerance among our students and faculty. We know there is so much other cultures and lifestyles can teach us, if we respect their rights and beliefs,” the elderly gentleman in the corduroy jacket stood and again shook Vizh’s hand, “We apologize for any inconvenience.”

Visionary looked over to the now clearly smug Kerry, “So, wait: she’s not being expelled? Or even punished?”

“Kerry will have to write a reflective essay on the experience,” Michael said in short, clipped tones.

“Nothing too long or detailed: the assignment is something we have the students take part in to help them identify strategies for dealing with conflict. Kerry can turn it in Monday.”

“Wait: this guy screws up and it costs me part of my weekend?” the young woman nodded over to her teacher, “Where’s the justice in that?”

“That’s enough, Kerry,” Visionary cast Wooster an apologetic glance, “She’ll have it done. Thank you.”

After the pair departed Furillo leaned back in his chair and exhaled, “We dodged a bullet there,” he adjudged.

“Mr. Furillo, I still fail to see what was done wrong. A student doesn’t necessarily have to agree with a position in order to defend it in a mock debate. They just have to recognize alternate points of view. I’ve had evangelical Christians argue in favor of abortion, an African American student take the part of Jefferson Davis while advocating the rights of secession…”

“Did any of those kids have Lisa Waltz on speed dial?” Headmaster Furillo countered, “Look, Michael: you know these people are different. The rules don’t apply to them as they do for the average person. It may not be fair, but that’s life.”

Michael shook his head. If some in society felt that way, no wonder others we so quick to support such draconian measures as HB 1066.

*****


When he returned home to his still incompletely renovated townhouse, Michael Wooster was not surprised when he saw that Ivan had taken a message from his mother. Since what she wished to discuss couldn’t be done over the phone he took a taxi to Pierce Heights so as to let the woman browbeat him in person.

“Who was that who answered your phone?” Agnes demanded of her son, “He was very flip with me.”

“Ivan Strode. He’s a quasi-mystic hunted by supernatural entities created from the imagination of a villainess known as Penny Blood, and as such is staying with me until we can track her down and cure her of her insanity caused by the machinations of two rogue agents of the former Shaper of Worlds.”

Agnes’s lips pressed together angrily, “I had to ask. It couldn’t have been something simple, like he was an old college friend needing a place to stay because his wife threw him out. No, it had to be more idiotic superhero falderal.”

Michael said nothing. His mother got up from her writing desk to confront him more directly, “Enough is enough, Michael. You must stop this ridiculous pantomime of being a costumed crimefighter. Its too dangerous.”

“Mother, I assure you, despite the sanguine component to the woman’s alias, myself and Mr. Strode are more than capable of overcoming the plots of the poor, ensorcelled woman.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it! You read the papers. Ever since you were eight years old you read the Trombone front to back. The government is cracking down on people with your chosen lifestyle, and public opinion is one its side. For your sake, for the sake of the family name, you must stop.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a superhero if I quit when the road got rocky,” the last scion of the Wooster dynasty said softly.

Agnes threw up her hands in a fit of pique, “Oh, save me from the self-important bravado of the Wooster males! Your father dressed garishly and performed harebrained stunts for the slack-jawed masses and it didn’t make him a superhero either. I indulged his eccentricities and he got himself killed: I will not make the same mistake with my only son!”

The criticism of both himself and his father stung Michael, a surprise because by this point he had built up a tolerance to Agnes’s venom that bordered on Promethean, “I’m not like Dad. If anything, I’m like you. You’re the one who used our pedigree and fortune to promote social causes. To make the world a better place. That’s all I’m trying to do, in my own fashion.”

The matriarch of the Wooster clan was momentarily stunned by the comparison. When she recovered she made a poignant observation, “Well, it seems like the world doesn’t want your help anymore.”

“I refuse to accept that.”

Agnes stared at her oldest child for a long time. Finally her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she muttered, “And I thought your sister would be the ruin of us all.”

“Really? Jenni or Trudi?”

“Trudi. The other one doesn’t have the breadth of imagination necessary to orchestrate a scandal capable of destroying one of the founding families of Paradopolis.”

Michael smiled; Trudi would be upset to have missed Mother’s compliment.

*****


After borrowing his mother’s phone to call a cab Michael went outside to the front terrace to wait. He wanted to watch the sun set over the trees of Giffen Gardens. The leaves were turning to their fall colors, and the ebbing light blended magnificently with the reds and oranges of the park’s well-groomed maple trees.

A sterling silver Spider tore up the brick driveway. The car screeched to a halt, and Michael’s two sisters spilled out and rushed towards him.

“You’re here! Good. We need to talk,” Trudi said as she took Michael’s arm. Jenni clutched the other and the pair shepherded their big brother to the veranda’s stone bench.

“Hello, Trudi. Hello, Jenni. Why are you wearing snow parkas?”

“They’re signature pieces of St Sylvan’s winter line: Eskimost,” Jenni pulled down her mink-lined hood, “Inuit is very in this year.”

“I see. I hope that trim is imitation fur.”

“Gosh, me too,” Trudi lied, “Enough girl talk, Michael. We need to discuss superhero stuff with you.”

Jenni nodded, “About Hatman. We’re worried about him.”

Michael waited patiently to learn why.

“He’s associating with a bad element: some quasi-Canadian communist who turns into a wolf with rabies.”

“I see.”

Trudi made a sour face, “This is serious, Michael.”

“Rabies are contagious!” Jenni nearly shrieked.

“So is lycanthropy,” Michael observed in his most helpful tone.

“What’s that?”

“Never mind. Trudi, Jenni, I’m sure if Zvesti Zdrugo represented any kind of, ah, health threat she wouldn’t have been allowed into the country.”

“Yeah, well, she still could be up to something.”

“I don’t trust her. She sounds like that lady from the Bullwinkle cartoon.”

“What if she’s using her feminine wiles on Jay to get him to marry her so she can stay in America?” Jenni challenged.

Trudi nodded vigorously, and then upped the ante’, “And then use her special status as an associate of the Lair Legion to get past airport security as part of a plot to smuggle blue jeans back into her denim-deprived homeland?”

“That…. seems unlikely,” Michael paused for a moment, “Associates of the Lair Legion can bypass security checkpoints?”

“Well, duh,” Jenni snarked, “Why do you think we want to get in with them so bad?”

“What exactly is it you want to smuggle into the country?”

Both girls looked into their laps and absently played with their zippers.

“There’s this face cream from Borneo made from the placenta of -” Jenni blurted

“Never mind,” Michael interrupted to avoid hearing the source of said tissue. Some things he was better left in the dark about. He stood as the taxi turned up the street the Wooster manor rested on.

“You know, perhaps its time you halted your attempts at winning Mr. Boaz’s favor. You don’t want to seem desperate, do you?”

“No, but who else is there in the Legion? Sir Mumphrey? Old. Visionary? Fake. Al B. Harper? Nerd. Librarian? Ultra-nerd,” Jenni checked off several of the team’s roster.

“CSFB!’s into fatties, Mr. Epitome is a eunuch, um… who’s left?”

“Er, Trickshot?” Michael offered.

Trudi rolled her eyes, “As if! The man is one step removed from carny folk. Totally unsuitable, even if our dumb-as-a-post sister ‘helped him with something’ last Christmas.”

It took a moment for Michael to parse that euphemism for its true meaning. Once he did he began to blush furiously.

“My ride is here. Have a pleasant evening.”

After their brother jumped into his cab Trudi turned triumphantly to the pouting Jenni, “Now you’ve got both God and Michael disgusted with you.”

*****


Michael pulled the sleeveless tunic down his bare torso. It may have been thirty-eight degrees outside, but such attire was necessary if he wanted access to the tattoos that ringed his forearms. As he tied his domino mask on he continued his phone conversation.

“- just another example of how the public views superheroes: as privileged people who are above the law.”

Several thousand miles away, Doctor Honoria Sesselby hammered in another tent peg, “Keep in mind, Michael, this particular view comes from a pair of individuals who believed in the Easter Bunny until they were eleven. As a licensed crypto-zoologist I can tell you that is not the case.”

“Still, it is disconcerting. We have people who see superheroes as exceptions to the rule of law. Some envy that position, and others fear it. Like those who endorse HB 1066.”

The statuesque blonde took up her camping lantern and ducked into her temporary shelter, “There are similar bills being proposed here in Europe. The television station out of Oslo had live coverage of Parliament’s debate.”

“All over the world, it seems people have had their fill of metahumans. Too much so to be a coincidence.”

Honoria had to agree, “You mentioned, a while back, you thought there was some kind of… conspiracy, to rid the Parodyverse of its superheroes. It would appear that your assumption was correct.”

“Yes.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

Alcheman looked down to his kitchen table at the newspaper article that spurred him into donning his costume tonight: a notice that the Committee for the Occulation of Paranormal Experiences was holding an 'open forum' to discuss its support for House Bill 1066, “Confront one of the conspirators.”

To be continued


cpe-24-160-18-76.sw.res.rr.com (24.160.18.76) U.S. Company
Palm Web Pro/Windows XP (0 points)
[New] [Email] [Print] [RSS] [Tales of the Parodyverse]
Follow-Ups:

Echo™ v3.0 alpha © 2003-2006 Powermad Software
Copyright © 2004-2006 by Mangacool Adventure