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Post By Silver Aegis Sun May 06, 2007 at 02:12:25 am EDT |
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Parodyverse Team Up #4 | |
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Next In Thread >> | |
Visionary and the Silver Aegis in: “Numbers Racket” It was twenty four hours until the movie event of the summer: the premiere of the latest entry in the superhero saga of “Night Newt,” Awe Comics’ flagship character. “Night Newt” mania was gripping the city’s populace in an inescapable bear hug, causing one particular toy shop customer a great amount of hurt in the movie’s producers’ selected target: his wallet. He was an average looking fellow, some would claim eerily so, and note his typical appearance almost seemed designed, as if a team of scientists met and posited the question: what would the most indistinguishable looking man ever to walk the planet look like?, and then set about constructing him. But Visionary would refute such a hypothesis emphatically, because he knew who he was, and that person was real, damn them! Visionary stood in line with the rest of his equals. He carried the object of his trek to the Briarwood Mall, something his son had asked for just this morning, cautiously, nervously. The youngster had suffered a hard life before uniting with his father, and part of him worried he or his sister may say something, do something, that would put his parent off. He shouldn’t have worried, for while Visionary did not have the strength or power or skill or presence or intelligence of the standard “super man,” the one thing he never lacked was compassion. “I hope I have enough money for this,” he mumbled as he produced a credit card from his billfold, “the last thing I need is to have a clerk take scissors to another card because Kerry maxed out the account at the ‘Panty Shanty’.” “Are you talking to me?” a voice behind him in the queue inquired. “Uh, no. Just myself,” Visionary turned to apologize. “I see. Then you may want to stop. It’s the type of habit that makes one look ridiculous,” adjudged the middle-aged endomorph wedged into a faded black tee shirt with the now ubiquitous ‘Night Newt’ insignia stretched across it, a set of ‘Night Newt’ Nocturnal Goggles perched atop his greasy pompadour, and clutching several ‘Night Newt’ Poseable Figurines in his flabby arms. “No, I wouldn’t want that,” Visionary agreed. The man peered over Visionary’s shoulder to evaluate his anticipated purchase, “A ‘Night Newt’ Prehensile Tongue Launcher. I bought six of those when they came out. Last month,” he supplemented acidly. “Six? Wow, that’s a lot. Do you have many children?” “Children? No. However, I am currently in negotiations with a young woman in Krokahvia that may eventually lead to such results. But I would never allow potential offspring access to the items in question.” “Oh,” Visionary replied, somewhat dejected. He thought the toy was supposed to be safe for children, from ages 7 and up, according to the box. Hitching up his dungarees, the stranger shuffled forward as the line moved, “I procured the launchers as an investment. They’re collectible.” “So you’re an investor as well as a fan,” Visionary guessed, “You must really be looking forward to the movie.” “The movie? Hardly,” the man rolled his eyes, “I fully expect this latest effort to fail as miserably as the other attempts. There is no feasible way a film can capture the subtle complexities of the ‘Night Newt- Daphne Stoddard- Cory Lynn Folsom’ love triangle, in addition having time to accurately portray the origins and personalities of not one, not two, but THREE villains!” he counted off on his fingers, “To be blunt, the director should have saved ‘Nemesis Newt’ for the next film. Or just forgotten him entirely, since to make the character palatable to the general movie going public, i.e. the ‘kids,’ the studio has emasculated him.” “Really? Wow that’s a shame. Well, nice talking to you,” bobbing his head in farewell, Visionary turned towards the front of the line, of which he was the next but one customer to be served. “For ‘Nemesis Newt’ to work he HAS to be a cannibal!” his fellow consumer exclaimed in an almost forlorn voice. “Yah huh, yup. Just awful,” was Visionary’s vague reply as he placed the toy on the counter for the cashier to scan. “How much is it?” he asked, wincing in anticipation of a prohibitive cost. “I – I don’t know!” the sales girl exclaimed. Visionary opened one eye to look at the register’s LED read out, and was shocked to find he didn’t either. The symbols were complete gibberish to him. “This is just great,” he thought to himself, “I drive all the way from Willingham, wait in line forever, just to buy this-“ he looked at his purchase and made an even more startling discovery: he could not identify the number of ‘Night Newt’ Prehensile Tongue Launchers he had wanted rung up. It was there, right there, right on the edge of his comprehension, and yet he could not commit to an exact figure. Clearly, more than the cash register was malfunctioning. “Hey, you didn’t give me enough change!” the previous customer stormed back to the counter and shouted, “This is-is- I don’t know how much you’ve shorted me, but you did!” “Calm down, ma’am,” the clerk tried to console her, “Do you have your receipt?” “Yes, but I can’t make any sense of it. What kind of con job are you pulling here?” Visionary spoke up, “Let’s not make any accusations just yet. Something is obviously wrong, but what’s responsible still isn’t clear.” The woman stared at the man in the yellow jacket derisively, “Who are you, Mall Security?” “No, but, ahm, I am a part of the Lair Legion.” “You’re a superhero?” she sounded doubtful. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m Visionary.” “Never heard of you.” “You’re Visionary?” the movie critic/entrepreneur from earlier, named Hubert T. Shaudhausen for purposes of identification, “I thought you’d be taller.” “And thinner.” The salesgirl added. “Well, I am. Visionary that is,” the Legionnaire snapped, “So let’s everybody calm down and – “ A big man in a rugby shirt ran to the front of the line, “Do you have any more ‘Spaskov the Jacklighter’ Poseable Figurines?” he begged, “I didn’t see any.” Before the clerk could reply the harried customer looked at the glut of toys Hubert carried, “There are some!” “Back off, Ape Shape. These belong to me!” he clutched his treasure closer to his bosom. “No way! You can’t hoard them all!” he began pulling on his arms frantically to get at the figures. “Stop! I’m asthmatic!” “Wait! Just relax- WHOOMPHF!” Visionary stumbled backward after being struck in the midsection by the big man’s elbow. He careened into the woman arguing over her change and both went down in a tangle of limbs. “Help! He’s assaulting me!” she shrieked before jamming her keys into Visionary’s ribs. “AH! No, wait, I’m a – a good guy! I wouldn’t- Ow!” Struggling to stand, the Legionnaire pushed his way into the throng of onlookers and grabbed Hubert. “Run!” Visionary ordered, joining Hubert in his egress from the store. A quick look around the mall made it clear the numerical discombobulation was not isolated to the toy store. Shoppers were confused and irate, a dangerous combination. While sprinting, Visionary patted down his pockets for his wallet, which carried the Communications Card he would use to contact his fellow members of the Lair Legion for aid. “Where is it?” he wondered aloud. “Your wallet?” Hubert said as he huffed along side his savior, “You dropped it when you fell on that lady.” This news made Visionary realize he was the only superhero on hand to deal with the perplexing conundrum and the crisis it had fashioned. Or was he? To Be Continued! |
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