Rob Dunder had a hard time of it this afternoon. The alarm clock promptly woke him up at 3 pm. Working as the night janitor for the San Francisco branch of California Star Trekish Labs meant he had to be at work promptly with mop in hand, ready to go at 5 pm. As the clock went off he instinctively swatted it further on his night stand, grumbled and then fell back to sleep.
This action caused him to wake at 4:30, yell some profanities and run through his run down apartment, preparing for work. He had missed the 4 pm BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) long ago and had to catch the 4:50. Sitting on the track train, he watched the usual day employees as they read or slept their journey home. Thick black storm clouds darkened the sky.
Rob focused on the newspaper some man was reading. There was an article about the Lair Legion’s recent triumph and another story about some archeologist and the discovery he and his family had made. Sandwiched between these was an article that made Rob’s stomach lurch. His work was going to present the tribute to the Lair Legion tomorrow morning. That meant tomorrow night the Presentation Room would be a huge mess. Worse, the only Legionnaire scheduled to attend the presentation was the loudmouth, Trickshot.
“That guy is a slob. He’ll probably show off and wreck the place.” Rob thought. “And then Peacock will get all bent out of shape and make me clean it up. Great. Well, at least it wont be those two jerks, Hatman and CrazySugarFreakBoy. I’ll never forgive either of those stuck up idiots for what they did to me!”
Rob’s night continued to downward spiral as he stood, mop in hand, bucket by his side, in front of his superior. He hated Doctor Peacock almost as much as he hated Hatman and CrazySugarFreakBoy. Ten years Rob’s junior, Doctor Peacock was a short, squat man with glasses. He worked hard in his young life to get where he was and he made sure anyone below him knew it.
“Dunder! You were supposed to get here an hour ago. There is a lot of work to be done. The presentation is tomorrow morning and the room needs to be ready. It’s going to take a simple minded buffoon like yourself all night to clean so you should have gotten here earlier. If you would stop coming in late, you might be able to make something of yourself. Why do you think I’m head of operations here at the Lab? It’s not just because I’m smarter than everyone. Now get to work and do not touch the statues!”
“Statues?” Rob briefly wondered to himself before cussing out the short man. He did not wonder for long as he entered the Presentation Room with his mop and bucket. Doctor Peacock was talking adamantly to some technicians as they stood in front of a raised display. Standing on the four display shelves were several little six-inch action figures.
“So you’re sure the LCMBs are fully functional?” the Doctor asked.
One of the technicians replied, “Yes sir. All of the Little Clone Meta Bodies passed every test. They each contain imprints of all the gene donors they resemble. Each meta ability is stored within each LCMB. We even implanted skill duplication chips so that every Legionnaire’s skills are stored as well.”
Doctor Peacock eyed Rob suspiciously but then looked back to whisper, “Great. The Legion will be pleasantly surprised. They can display them and if anything happens to one of their members, they can clone a new one from the LCMBs. I see you even cloned their deceased members as well. Was there enough genetic information from the hidden samples?”
“Of course, sir. We even have a tiny clone of the tape worm within specimen thud.”
“Excellent.” The doctor and his techs started to leave the large presentation room. He turned to Rob, “Remember, don’t touch the statues. I expect a low brow worker like yourself to get that part right.”
Rob was still mentally cussing his superior as he chugged his soda, an hour after everyone had closed up shop. He was leaning on his mop looking at the LCMBs. “Jerkwad thinks he’s so smart. Why did he make these clone things so friggen small?”
The following heroes stood, represented as LCMBs; Lisa, Visionary, Yo, CrazySugarFreakBoy!, Hatman, Trickshot, Dancer, the Manga Shoggoth, the Librarian, Mr. Epitome, Al B. Harper, Yuki Shiro, Sir Mumphrey Wilton, ManMan, Goldeneyed, Sorceress, Amazing Guy, Jarvis, NTU-150, spiffy, Fin Fang Foom, the Dark Knight, Banjoooo, Donar, Messenger, Starseed, Space Ghost, DarkHwk, Rocket Racoon, Sersi, Exile, Troia 215, Ziles, dull thud, Nats, The Man Who Wasn't There, Magnetic Techbird, Avatar, Pegasus, Falcon, De Brown Streak and Uhunalura. Each one had a little nameplate in front.
“Huh. I’ve never even heard of some of these guys. I wish I could just grab Hatdork and CrazySugarDork and squish them.”
As if on cue, lightning lanced through one of the windows and struck the LCMBs. Strange, powerful energy poured out of the little clones and into Rob. He was thrown back into the wall. As he lied there, stunned and glowing, he looked back at where the LCMBs were. All that was left of the clones was a pile of ash and slag.
“Crap. Peacock will have my job for this.” He thought as he passed out.
To be continued!
Scott
ag aka muse-slave aka Jack_Roberts aka just 'Scott'
My blog, THE BLOG OF THE NIGHT CHILDREN.
Come see!
Scott
ag aka muse-slave aka Jack_Roberts aka just 'Scott'
My blog, THE BLOG OF THE NIGHT CHILDREN.
Come see!
