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Post By Silver Aegis Sat Mar 17, 2007 at 09:30:13 pm EDT |
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Silver Aegis #2 | |
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“Josie Hart, get those million dollar gams in here!” Sol Spivy, city editor for the Parodiopolis Times-Picayune, barked into the newsroom that he ruled as an unfettered despot. “Coming, Captain,” there was the tik-tak of heels across yellowed linoleum as the bobbed brunette made her entrance. She flung her camel hair coat atop the forsaken birdcage that was once the home of Spivy’s prize mynah bird Mencken and collapsed onto the chair across from the tyrant’s desk, “Hi, Lewis.” “*choke* H-h-hello, Ms. Hart,” Lewis Hollander, the paper’s rawest, but bravest, photographer stammered. “For God’s sake, Lewis, pull yourself together. And you, Hart!” Sol pointed a finger at his star reporter, “Don’t call me Captain!” Josie laced her fingers behind her head and leaned back, “You seem tense this morning boss. You still sore about my expense report? I already explained that I needed the Stradivarious Accordian and the boa constrictor to sneak in Senator Paisley’s summer house-“ “I’m not interested in how you got yesterday’s news! What I want to know is,” he held up the front page of the Picayune’s chief competitor so she could see the headline : Josie squinted at the photo above the fold, of the superhero using his shield to fend off a squad of paramilitarists, “It’s those guys…. CANKER?” “HERPES. Stands for Hero Elimination Revenge Project Extermination Squad. Silver Aegis has been busting up their operations for the past two weeks, ever since his debut at the Parodiopolis Ironworks.” “Patriotic Penicillin for what ails a troubled city,” Ms. Hart quoted from the column, “Those boys at the Trombone do love their alliteration.” “They have to be good at something,” the editor scoffed, “But while they’re long on purple prose, they’re short on facts. That’s where you come in, Josie. You and the shutterbug here. Get the scoop on the Silver Aegis, and it could mean another Pulitzer medal.” “I do need something to wear to the Parodiopolis Variety Theater benefit,” Josie tapped her chin thoughtfully. She swept her jacket up in one arm and Lewis in the other, “Come on, kid.” “But, but, where are we going, Ms. Hart?” Lewis asked in a tone that mixed both hope and dread. “To get you a trim.” Later, the two were parked across from a tiny barbershop nestled on the corner of a downtown Carrington office building. Young Hollander grew confused, “You really want me to get my hair cut? I mean, I will- for you, Ms. Hart, but the style today is to wear it long-“ “Relax, kid. I just need you to as an excuse to get in and poke around,” Josie assured him, “You know who SPUD is? The Super-Menace Principal Undercover Directorate? Reports say they’re the ones shepherding Silver Aegis around town, though they’re being characteristically tight-lipped about the man.” “So, this place is a SPUD hangout? We’re going in to listen for gossip?” The reporter smiled, “This is no ordinary barbershop,” was all she would say. TING-TING “Look, Jack, a customer!” the elderly barber with the mustache and aviator frames enthused, “Hop up on the chair here, junior, and we can get started. How short, ma’am?” Scratching her head dramatically, Josie Hart adopted her daffy, ditzy gangland moll inflection, “I don’t know: Frankie’s maybe five five, five six… oh, you mean his hair! Well, Frankie’s old enough to make that decision for himself, aren’t you, Frankie?” she brushed her fingers against Lewis’s shoulder. “Ulp!” “Oh, Frankie, you say the funniest things! Try not to make the barber laugh while he’s working. I wouldn’t want you to lose an ear like that Vincent Van Gauche,” she cocked her hip, “You know, I never understood how a guy who drew such beautiful pitchers could have no clue on how to impress a lady. If sunflowers weren’t turning her head, he should have painted her a big box of chocolates. Or a tennis bracelet!” “*Snort*,” the other barber, Jack, hidden behind his newspaper, opined derisively. After a few more minutes of blather to convince the shop’s owners she was nothing more than an unintelligent nincompoop, Josie was free to roam and to work. It was obvious this salon was the one she had heard about- a secret entrance for Parodiopolis’s own branch of SPUD. The industrial sized vats of Brilcream confirmed that. But what she needed now was a way in. Then she saw the cigar store Indian, and her faculties clicked into high gear. ‘Chief Tesmokesah, Shawnee Cigar Company’s mascot 1898-1914. Except its headdress should have four pheasant tailfeathers, not five. And the varnish on the center plume has been rubbed down. Let’s see what happens…’ Josie pulled the lever, causing herself, Tesmokesah, and the floor around them to drop. “Hey! Stan, she found the elevator!” Jack the barber jumped from his chair and alerted his partner. “What?! Lady, you can’t go down there- whoof!” “Ms. Hart, wait! I’m coming!” Lewis called to Josie after covering Stan with the cape he had been wearing. He grabbed the satchel that held his camera and jumped down to the platform. “Good work,” Josie helped the young photographer to his feet and gave him an encouraging pat. “Ms. Hart, are you crazy?! You’re going to get us in trouble!” The woman’s eyes gleamed manically, “I’m going to get us the story, kid.” The lift halted in a large circular chamber. The SPUD agent who manned the control booth stared in shock at the intruders. KLANGALANGALANGALANG!!!the klaxons echoed throughout the complex. Josie grabbed Lewis by the arm and bolted for the closest door. FFWSSSH! the panel slid aside allowing the two access to the base’s massive main concourse. “Oh, my!” Lewis gawked. “Get your camera, kid,” Josie stated, though even the seasoned reporter was stunned by what she saw. Pneumovators propelling scores of jump-suited and comically vertical SPUD agents to unknown destinations. Flying cars, from Model Ts to Maseratis, whizzing over them well above Autobahn speeds. Lumbering Sentinoids power suits walking the chrome plated beat. A quartet of very macrocephalic albinos bouncing by in their hoverchairs. “It’s amazing! What a spectacle!” “Yeah, it’s enough to make George Lucas plotz,” Josie admitted, but before she could admonish her photographer about leaving on his lens cap one of the thirteen foot security armors made note of SPUD’s uninvited guests: “ATTENTION INTRUDERS! PLACE YOUR HANDS OVER YOUR HEAD AND DROP TO YOUR KNEES OR BE DESTROYED!” it warned, pointing a heavily armed and armored limb at them. “*Gulp!* better do what he says, Ms. Hart!” But Josie Hart hadn’t become the toughest reporter for the toughest paper in the toughest town in the Parodyverse by quailing when every secret government agency war machine put her in its crosshairs. She flipped open her notebook and identified herself, “Josie Hart, Parodiopolis Times-Picayune. What’s your comment on the Silver Aegis’s recent activities against HERPES cells here in the city?” WHAT? LOOK, LADY, I’VE GOT ENOUGH FIREPOWER IN THIS ARM TO BLOW UP A TANK COLUMN! GET ON YOUR KNEES AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP BEFORE- “Are you threatening us? We’re members of the constitutionally protected fourth estate? I’ll have badge for this, soldier. Who’s your superior officer?” “Um, Ms. Hart,” Lewis tugged on the indignant journalist’s arm, warily noting the crowd of Sentinoids, super spies, and cyborg commandoes that was gathering around them. “Stand down, Agent Vasquez,” a voice came from the ambient rhubarb of the mob, “I’m taking Miss Hart and Mister Hollander into my custody.” Stepping forward to the front of the crowd came the source of that command. It was the Silver Aegis. “Hello,” he said, offering his hand in greeting, “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m a regular subscriber to the Picayune and have been very impressed with both your work.” “You know who we are? Golly!” Lewis accepted the handshake enthusiastically. “OK, so you know who we are and we know who you are, except not really,” Josie observed, trying hard not to be distracted by the Aegis’s deep green eyes and dimpled chin, “You’ve been operating in Parodiopolis for weeks now, at taxpayer’s expense obviously. The public has a right to know exactly what kind of man you are. So are you ready to answer some questions, Mister Aegis?” The man smiled at Josie, making her feel just a little bit queasy, “Of course. Where would you like to begin? Next time: “The Secret Origin of the Silver Aegis,” where we learn everything about the Parodyverse’s newest champion. See his story, from the bowery of Seedy Town to the streets of Berlin, from the Depression to the height of the Cold War. Find out why June is the cruelest month for the Silver Aegis, and why he is literally a man out of time and place. Meet his inspiration, his archenemy, his destroyer, and his rescuer. Coming Soon! |
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