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The Hooded Hood Chronicles #6: The Hooded Hood at the Crossroads of Destiny Saturday, 20-Nov-1999 09:12:06
The Hooded Hood Chronicles #6: The Hooded Hood at the Crossroads of Destiny Historical context note: Just before this story was written, Dark Knight announced a round robin (a story in which each poster contributes a part) regarding the return of the mythological gods and their attempts to conquer the Parodyverse. Each poster had to pick some mythological character and put their own protagonist against them. Everybody agreed to do this and DK wrote the first chapter. Like the newbie I was I very conscientiously wrote may part of it. Here it is. Then… nothing happened. Zip. Nada. Zilch. And all that sort of stuff. The whole round robin went deathly silent (a bit like the one we’ve got going at the moment, except this time I was smart and got myself as the final contributor) and nothing else happened for months. Eventually DK did write his epic Challenge of the Gods saga, and at his request I did another crossover, which you can find on the Hooded Hood’s Homepage of Doom as Mythological Interlude. But this story precedes all of that by a good while, and remains one of my favourite one-offs. It even introduced A Junior Reader to BZL continuity. A couple of other details for the Cliff’s Notes. This story went out just after Pierson’s Porter’s plotline had blown up the moon, and as the InsidetheWeb boards underwent a format change which limited the stories shown on the front page of the board to a mere ten entries (which led to considerations of moving the whole BZL to a new internet location until someone figured the menu option to crank up the number of entries on the first page). You’ll perhaps catch references to these events in the story. Top quality mist roiled over the place where the four tracks met, obscuring the unrealistic vegetation which clumped together on the Blasted Heath. All that was missing was Basil Rathbone and a bloody huge hound. What the scene did have, however, was witches. Three of them. And they were acting in accordance with ancient custom and practise. “When shall we three meet again?”, the first and eldest of them asked. Another figure loomed out of the mists. It was clear from the dramatic way that he emerged from the gloom that he was well versed in looming. He was swathed in a dark grey mantle and hood, and his eyes glowed with a sinister green light. “Before you ladies consult your filofaxes, the Hooded Hood demands information from you,” the intruder declaimed. The three women at the crossroads turned to stare at the sinister interloper. None of them seemed surprised by his appearance. “Hail, Hooded Hood, once known as Ioldobaoth Winkelweald!” the youngest of the witches proclaimed. “Hail, Hooded Hood, cowled crime-czar!” the second called. “Hail, Hooded Hood, King hereafter!” the third prophesied. “I am quite familiar with the Scottish play, thank you,” the Hood rejoined, leaning forward to look at the three women in tattered black vestments and pointed, wide-brimmed hats. He examined them closely: a young woman, not unattractive beneath the grime, a matron of middle years, running to seed, and an ancient toothless crone leered back at him. The three fates had considered taking on the aspects of famous figures from the Parodyverse for this appearance, but where the hell were they going to find a maiden amongst the regular BZL cast? “This is clearly a symbolic meeting,” the Hood considered. “Perhaps you would like to explain why I have been so rudely summoned from my plotting to conquer the Parodyverse to meet with anthropomorphic personifications of a discredited Jungian archetype?” “Beware, Hood!” the crone warned. “You stand at the crossroads of destiny, and we who spin the fates of mortals can send you to your triumph or your doom.” The cowled crime-czar considered this. “Is this to do with the incursion of alleged deities which appears to be plaguing the Parodyverse at the moment?” he surmised. “I understand that in one of the continuity strands Baron Zemo has teamed up with the Lord of Death to take over the planet, for example.” “It is the time of choices,” the middle-aged witch explained, fingering a ragged toy which was disconcertingly like the Hood’s long-lost Pooty. “The gods have returned, and those who aid them will be rewarded.” “Those who do not…” the young woman with the ancient eyes added, with a chilling smile. Her lipstick was blood red. “Oh wow!” a new voice echoed across the heath. “Oh yeah! It’s the Hooded Hood!” The cowled crime-czar turned to regard the new figure emerging from another of the pathways. It was a youth, clad in the most fashionable of designer labels. His trousers came from the semi-pornographic advert on the back of the recent Marvel comics. His shirt was casually trendy. In his back pocket was the mobile phone which he had convinced his parents was vital to his personal safety. Around his neck was his GameBoy. The whole effect was only spoiled by rampant acne and hair which could have been used as an oilfield. “You know, you could be really cool if only you got a decent artist to do you a makeover, man!” the youth told the archvillain. “A… makeover?” the Hooded Hood’s voice was thick with menace. “Sure. Some chains and skulls and stuff on your outfit. And stop using such long words. Just gut more people. Maybe you need a really big knife of a hook or something?” “Do I?” The youngster completely failed to recognise the promise of sudden death implicit in the tone of those two words. “Yeah! That’d be kicking! I mean, the way you are now, it’s no surprise that you ain’t got an action figure, is it?” Realisation and grim fury descended on the Hood. “You are the… person who has been posting on the BZL boards recently as A Junior Reader?” he said darkly. “Yeah! Isn’t Lisa a total babe?” “Hail, Brent Stepney, number one Spawn fan,” the first of the witches greeted him. “Got every Spawn #1 ever published,” the Junior Fan boasted, “ All ninety-three of ‘em.” “Hail, Brent Stepney, future leader of the Lair Legion!” the second witch hailed. “We’re gonna rename them the X-Spawn squad,” Stepney confided. “And wait’ll you see the uniforms I’ve come up with for the babes!” “Hail, Brent Stepney, future owner of every comics publishing house in the Western hemisphere,” greeted the third fate. “With Liefield as Editor-in-Chief,” the Junior Fan promised with an ecstatic grin. “No more of those way boring title with plots. What the fans want is full page action spreads and girls with really big buzooms! Yeah!” The Hooded Hood reached across and closed his hand on Stepney’s larynx, gently closing the Junior Fan’s windpipe. “What is the purpose of this tedious encounter?” he demanded the three fates. “There is yet one more to come,” the witches promised, pointing down the third of the roads. From the fog came the business-suited silhouette of Dr Maximillian Valium, psychotherapist to the superhero community. “Hello, Hooded Hood,” he nodded to the archvillain. “You’ve missed our last four sessions, you know. Don’t you want to be well again?” “Acckkkk!” the Junior Reader choked. “And perhaps you want to let that young man go as well?” Dr Valium suggested. “You are only projecting your own internal aggressions onto him as a way of hiding from your internal insecurities and childhood issues.” The Hooded Hood tossed Stepney at Valium’s feet. “I thought I had arranged for you to be a rabbit,” the cowled crime-czar accused the shrink. “Hail, Dr Valium, returned to your true self by our power,” the first witch screeched, neatly explaining the plot point. “Hail, Valium, psychiatrist to the super-poweredly challenged!” called the second. “Hail, Valium, armchair saviour of humanity,” the third prophesied. “I do have a few ideas about how to sort out the world,” the good doctor mused, “given the ability to put right a few basic flaws of the human psyche.” The three fates pointed as one down the dark, mist-obscured final pathway. “Down there is destiny,” they explained. “One of you shall tread that path to greatness, the greatness we have proclaimed to you today. Rulership, dominion, and absolute power.” “I get to rule comics,” enthused the Junior Reader. A thought struck him. “Hey! Lisa’s a comic book character.” An unpleasant leer crossed his acne-troubled countenance. “I could correct defects of the human mind,” Dr Valium considered. “All kinds of deviant behaviour, immoral acts, rebelliousness, liking loud music…” “I could achieve my goals and at last take my place as the supreme ruler of the universe,” expounded the Hood. “But only one of us can walk the path?” The three fates screeched in laughter. “Only one” they crowed. “But who shall it be?” And they returned again to the sort of laughter that got EC banned by the comics code. The Hooded Hood sighed. “After you,” he said politely to Dr Valium. “You have, after all, been my therapist for some time now. You advised me not to be overwhelmed by my ambition. So please, feel free to take the path.” “Hey! What about me?” demanded Brent Stepney. “I’ve got a grown-up credit card and everything!” “You heard the nice archvillain, son,” Dr Valium rejoined. “Me first.” “No way, butt-face!” The Junior Reader set off at a run down the path. Valium forgot his dignity and sprinted after him. The Hooded Hood watched them go with a dark expression. “Very clever, Hooded Hood,” the elder witch judged. “The path they went down has always been the wrong one because of your judicious use of your ability to change the past.” “They thought it to be the remaining route,” the matron added. “But instead it will take them back from whence you came, to Herringcarp Asylum,” announced the maiden. “Where I have minions who will deal with them as they deserve” the Hood concluded. “Although I cannot envisage an ending horrible enough for that young person. I shall have to devote some thought to that.” The mists swirled closer until all that was left was the three witches, a bubbling cauldron of unspeakable parts, and a downwards-sloping road. “Take the path of your destiny, Hooded Hood,” the fates told the grey-mantled traveller. The archvillain steepled his fingers and considered. “I think not,” he concluded. “The charade was an imaginative one, ladies. It did appeal to my competitive nature, because I could not allow either the rabbit-like, closed-minded Valium nor that obnoxious youth the chance at becoming supreme, and so I had to act to delete them. But the Hooded Hood requires the help of no man, woman, or god to complete his aims. And so I decline your offer.” “Have a care, Ioldobaoth,” warned the youngest witch. “We weave, measure, and cut the strands of human life, and all fortune is crafted in the warp and weft of the tapestry we create.” “There are greater games here than you imagine, little player,” cautioned the matron. “Be content to play your part and partake of your reward.” “Walk now the path of destiny that we have paved for you, and do not try to resist the power of the Fates,” demanded the oldest of the Three. And suddenly they managed to evoke the rather scary imagery of Gaiman’s Sandman issues. “The Hooded Hood walks where he pleases,” declaimed the archvillain, swivelling on his heel and stepping back along the path that had brought him to the crossroads. “And his destiny is his own.” But he suddenly froze, his limbs unable to respond to his powerful will. “You WILL obey your destiny,” proclaimed the witches. “Did you think to deny us? Did you think to resist us?” “Did you think us unaware of you shifting us through the various continuity strands of your Parodyverse?” “Did you believe that we were anything less than supreme in any of the twisted storylines of your bizarre world?” The Hooded Hood’s throat muscles relaxed, allowing him to answer. “Ancient crones, I know you, and I know your power. You are, I believe, known in various cultures, which probably explains your remarkable ability to manipulate causality. You are the Morae, the Norns, the Fates, the Furies, the Graces, the Morrigan trinity, and more.” “Then you must obey us.” The Hooded Hood’s glowing green eyes narrowed. “And you are goddesses of the moon.” “As it has three aspects so do we,” the Fates replied. “Ever changing, ever the same.” “I see. Perhaps you should have a really good look at the continuity strand I have delivered us to then, ladies. You might notice that you have followed me here to Pierson’s Porter’s story strand.” The Fates were suddenly silent. “You know,” continued the Hood, “the one where the moon got blown up last episode to sort out some aliens. It was all part of one of Zemo’s rather puerile and abortive enterprises as I understand it. It’s all there on the BZL board for you to see.” “Impossible!” the hags gasped. “Why didn’t we see it?” They looked further. “Only ten of the myriad realities of the Parodyverse are apparent to us at once! What has happened?” they demanded, shocked and horrified at the new limitation of their power. “A little adjustment I took the precaution of making,” smiled the Hood. “And here we are, in a world with no moon to empower you. And you have no way back out of it. How unfortunate. Still, I’m sure the rest of the deities will find a way to get along in their masterplan without you.” “Wait!” called the oldest witch. “You can’t just leave us here. You really do have a destiny…” But the Hooded Hood had already retraced his steps into the mist, striding back towards an arrogant and ambitious plan of conquest and revenge which was entirely his own. Before abandoning the whole irrelevant plotline of the gods incursion he casually tossed in one more minor change, just enough to make a small but crucial difference later if the heroes were smart enough to catch on to it. And then he was lost from sight in the ever-thickening fog. And our free, bonus back up feature this time is a response from the Hooded Hood himself to a strand on what mekes a decent villain. Here’s the view of the ol’ cowled crime-czar: On the Marks of Great Villainy Heed now the words of the Hooded Hood. A hero is measured by the greatness of his enemies. Looking at the sad state of villainy in the Parodyverse that explains a lot about the Lair Legion, actually. There are several things that a really good villain needs: 1. An origin which shows how tragic they are, so that the readers can see how they could have been a noble and great man if only destiny had not played it cruel trick upon them. The Hooded Hood, for example, once laughed and loved as other men do, until the Day of Disaster, of which we will not speak. 2. A very distinctive appearance and vocabulary structure. Whilst the Hood prefers proper English (and so, according to her postings, does the voluptuaran Lisa), other villains elect to speak in sinister whispered mockeries of foreign languages, or in frothing rants, or even in darkly seductive tones of reasoned evil. But a first rank villain has to look and sound significant. In appearance, they should be able to be recognised by the well-versed reader from a simple silhouette in a one-page sub-plot or from a hand resting on a control panel in the final scene at the end of the book. 3. A reason for their villainy. It is not enough in these days to merely conquer the world. What is one to do with it thereafter? The Hooded Hood, for example, intends to ensure that there is one, and only one, strand of continuity in all of time/space – mine! Others seek more material gains. Many really classy villains have noble ends. We wish to conquer the world for its own good, to give it the benefit of out all-wise and all-powerful rule. And lest I forget, never fail to select an archvillain with a pointless redeeming feature, such as a love of goldfish or a care for an ailing mother. I enjoy playing the piano in a dark and brooding manner which underpins my greatness, and therefore I cannot be all bad. 4. A power base. Mere rogues gallery members may have specific powers which make them hard to fight. An archvillain will have massive infrastructures at his disposal. He will plot and scheme in a readership-building multi-part adventure. He will deploy minions, he will sacrifice pawns, for the greater gain. 5. A special relationship with the hero. My advice to any would-be archvillain is to seek out your hero’s identity, then murder their true love. That should make it more personal. Destroy their life. Cause their origin, if you can arrange it. By the way, my condolences about your sister Spandex Lass, CrazySugarFreakBoy! I trust these few words will assist in your deliberations. Be assured that you should choose an enemy quickly, since I intend to destroy you and all you hold dear in approximately three weeks from now. Yours sincerely The Hooded Hood A palliative offering of archive materials from the Hooded Hood to keep people distracted while he's finishing the Lair Legion line-up story for Untold Tales |
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