Tales of the Parodyverse

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Guess
Wed Sep 22, 2004 at 06:09:45 pm EDT
Subject
What If... Hatman was written by someone else?
Originally
That'd be awesome; I'm done already. :)
In Reply To

Hatman
Tue Sep 21, 2004 at 10:27:46 pm EDT
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    “You!” CrazySugarFreakBoy! screamed. “You deceived me! You made my whole life a lie! I thought you were my friend, and all along you were just using me, manipulating me, aiming me at your enemies!”
    Gideon Book shrugged. “So? As long as you had your comics and your superheroes and your mindless masturbation videos you seemed happy enough. The agent of chaos? You are nothing but a miserable joke.” The Word of Order turned to his daughter. “Kill him, Pelopia. We shall manipulate the next trickster instead. This one has served his purpose.”
    CrazySugarFreakBoy! hesitated just a beat too long as his former lover lurched towards him. Pelopia would have gutted him had not Nats ripped her to pieces telekinetically.
    “No!” Dreamcatcher Foxglove screamed. “Damn it, I said no more killing, Nats, you insane bastard!”
    The leather-jacketed flyboy alighted atop the remains of the Disciple of Logos. “Oops,” he said insincerely, then giggled.
    “It’s over, Book,” Blackhearted warned. It was the teleporting Legionnaire who had arrived at the last minute with Nats to save CSFB! from death. In a hundred variants he’d not made it in time, but one simple retcon had got him there when he was needed. “You can either surrender and let the kid beat the crap out of you or I can teleport your vital organs to China. Your choice.”
    “No,” the Word answered, remarkably calm despite the destruction of his only daughter. “On the contrary, I have just won. You will all now attend to my orders, and listen to the Voice of Reason.”
    And Blackhearted and Nats stopped dead in their tracks.
    CrazySugarFreakBoy! slammed into the villain, dazzling the chromophobe with the brilliant colours of his silly string. “Never again!” Dream sobbed as he hit him. “Never again!”
    “Yes,” gasped the Word, realising it was over. He had been exposed and betrayed, and his plans could no longer proceed. It was time to clear the way for a new emissary of order. “I see that now.”
    And he thumbed the nuclear trigger on his cuff stud, and he, the heroes around him, and a substantial part of central Seattle ceased to exist.

***


    “Another senseless waste,” the Sorceress wept, as she stood at the empty gravesides in the lair Cemetery. Such a long row of tombstones, the casualties of the team’s ruthless war on crime.
    “Not senseless,” Hatman assured her. “Our friends died for a cause, for something worthy. They will never be forgotten.”
    “Like all the others?” Whitney challenged. “Like Finny and DK and Enty and Vizh and Lisa and Dancer and Jarvis? How many more must be sacrificed?”
    “Once we started this course of action we were committed to see it through,” Jay Boaz argued. “We knew the cost might be high, to make a better world. But look at what we have accomplished.”
    “Right,” agreed Fashion Accessory, clad in a stylish mourning suit of perfectly-tailored black. “Crime is down ninety-five percent since we took down the major cartels and instituted the zero-tolerance no-offending policy.”
    “Right,” agreed Trickshot, the leather-clad one-eyed archer perching on Foom’s grave marker. “And whut the hell did we need alla them politicians for anyhow? Things are goin’ much smoother since we took over, right Hatty?”
    “We didn’t take over,” Hatman argued. “We have only suspended normal democratic procedures for the duration of the programme. When we’ve accomplished our goals we’ll hold free elections worldwide, we’ll disband the Legion back down to no more than fifty regulars, and we’ll step back and enjoy the fruits of our labours, paradise on Earth.”
    “I just wish the cost wasn’t so high,” shuddered Sorceress. “Was there no way to stop Book from killing Dream and Bill and Bry?”
    “No more than there was to prevent Dancer and Visionary falling in combat with Armageddon, or to save Lisa from the Manga Shoggoth,” Hatman answered precisely. “We – I – can do lots of things, but not everything.”
    Whitney Boaz slipped an arm around her husband. “I’m not blaming you, Jay,” she promised him. “We’d never have got this far without your guidance and leadership. It’s just… it’s hard.”
    “I know, Whit,” Hatman agreed. “But we’re saving the world.”
    “Verily,” agreed Harlagaz. “Yon planet shall be saved whether it liketh it or nay!”
    “And no matter what Yo’s traitorous scum try ta do ta stop it,” Trickshot spat.
    “I’ve told you before,” Hatman told them, “Yo and the others have their part to play in our plans as well. They just don’t know it yet.”
    Whitney nodded sadly. “So what’s next, O glorious leader? What secret dastardly deeds has the Portal of Pretentiousness winkled out for us now?”
    “Nothing for today,” jay assured her. “Today we mourn our fallen. Tomorrow I’ll be sending Pigeonman, Fetish Lad and B and D-Squadrons to settle the Abhuman menace once and for all.”
    “Bout time,” spat Trickshout sourly.
    “Could be dangerous,” Sorceress warned. “They’re powerful, and we know they’ve been talking with Yo.”
    Hatman pulled the grey cloak tighter round his body, the mantle he’d captured in combat a year since now and never took off. The cowl shadowed his face except for his greenly glowing eyes. “Don’t worry,” he promised his team-mates. “I have a plan.”
And the Hooded Hat cradled his fingers together and smiled thinly.
    



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