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Post By The Hooded Hood throws a few curves into the plot Wed Dec 15, 2004 at 08:14:56 am EST |
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#196: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Awkward Corners, or The Twist in the Untold Tale | |
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#196: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: Awkward Corners, or The Twist in the Untold Tale What Has Gone Before: The Dead Hell lords, demonic beings that should have been destroyed by their previous action, cling to existence through the captured power of the Resolution Prophecy. Their agents, the Hellraisers, seek to bring about the last battle between good and evil, and have begun by battling and defeating the Lair Legion. The LL’s leader, Sir Mumphrey Wilton, helped his team escape to strange dimension, but fell foul of a continuity alteration captured by the Hellraisers from the Hooded Hood. However, since history has been changed so that Mumphrey died in 1951, his place has been taken by his then-wife Marjorie, who has rescued and recruited Asil to thward “the ungodly”. The Lair Legion, having triumphed over Frightmare, Lord of the Nightmare Realms, unfortunately found that his dimension doesn’t exist without him, and have been shifted to the threshold of oblivion. Meanwhile, a team infiltrating Herringcarp Asylum has freed Sorceress and seeks a way to get to the Hellraisers’ fortress of darkness and hence to where Xander the Improbable waits to confront the Dead Hell Lords. The Hellraisers continue their reign of devastation, having apparently destroyed the Junior Lair Legion and then slaughtered the staff at the Lair Mansion. Now Nosferos the Undying has called upon his vampiric thrall Grace O’Mercy to render up to him the souls of the sick at the Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital. This episode takes place after spiffy's excellent tie in On the Fringes. Most cast are described in Who's Who in the Parodyverse Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish. Ovid Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved. William Jennings Bryan Asil Ashling had expected many things when her cell door was opened: to fight for her life, to be hurt very badly, to be abused and degraded, to face her worst nightmares. She hadn’t expected an auburn-haired woman in a well-tailored suit holding Sir Mumphrey Wilton’s temporal pocketwatch. “Lady Wilton?” Asil gasped. “But you’re dead.” “Not presently, Miss Ashling,” her rescuer told her. This woman didn’t look like most of the many photographs Mumphrey had show Asil of his beloved late wife. This lady looked as if she’d stepped from the covers of a wartime movie magazine, and she seemed no older than her late twenties. “Come along please. We have to deal with the Hellraisers, you know.” “Us?” Asil asked, trailing along behind the confident young woman. “You and me?” “When the Chain Knight used the contingency prepared by that Hooded Hood to erase Mumphrey from the timeline, he failed to consider what counter-contingencies my husband may have set to thwart the Hood undertaking such actions,” Marjorie Wilton explained as they hurried along the dank corridor. The Chain Knight had taken pleasure in explaining to Asil how he had eliminated her mentor, before he had left her alone in the dark to contemplate her fate. “When Sir Mumphrey died in 1951 you picked up the Chronometer of Infinity and became Keeper,” the Lisa-clone surmised. “Absolutely,” agreed Lady Wilton. “And frankly I’m feeling just a bit cross about it. I don’t like baddies trying to hurt my husband.” Something about the way she said it, some echo of Sir Mumphrey’s voice, dragged a secret smile to Asil’s lips. She was starting to see why Sir Mumphrey still doted on his departed wife. “It’s a bit careless of the Hooded Hood, not thinking about the consequences of his retcon,” Asil noted. “He’s not usually that sloppy.” “He isn’t, is he?” Madge agreed. “Then again, you’ll notice he wasn’t the one who used the contingency. He just left it lying around where the Hellraisers could capture it and use it as a convenient was of wiping Mumphrey rather than taking the trouble to kill him.” “So… we could get him back?” Asil realised. “Presently we shall certainly attempt to do so,” Lady Wilton assured her companion. “but for now we have a rather tricky matter of timing to set up. This way, Miss Ashling! Tally-ho!” “What’s going on?” Beth Shellett asked blearily, sitting up in her bed. “Bry, why are all those people screaming?” Goldeneyed was weak with the illness he’d survived and with blood loss from donating so much of his plasma so the hospital could culture the antibodies in it. “I dunno,” he admitted, struggling out of his own gurney. “But I’m going to find out.” He dragged on pants and a sweater and tottered into the corridor. There were a dozen pale faces pressed up against the outside of the lobby window; and the lobby in question was on the eighth floor. The vampires had come for Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital. The Chain Knight opened the cell door and towered over Lisa, Dancer, and the Hooded Hood. “Leave him be,” Sarah Shepherdson pleaded. “I haven’t even been able to get all the fish-hooks out of him from last time.” “Then I’ll certainly allow you more time to tend to your saviour,” Sir Lucian said to her with a mocking courtesy. “In the meantime I have a new toy with which to occupy myself.” Something about his gloating tone and the way he looked at Lisa alerted the first lady of the Lair Legion to the situation. “Who?” she demanded. “Who have you got?” “Someone of no more consequence that a discarded flake from your pretty scalp, Miss Waltz,” the Chain Knight told her. “Asil!” Lisa sprang up. “You don’t hurt Asil!” “On the contrary, I have an extensive programme of humiliation, agony, and degradation already mapped out for my new prize,” the Chain Knight assured the amorous advocatrix. “This… this is what you meant, isn’t it?” Dancer swallowed, still cradling the bloody form of the Hooded Hood in her lap. “When you talked about devising means of making us renege on the pact that keeps us safe from you?” “What do you want?” demanded Lisa. “Me in exchange for Asil’s safety?” Sir Lucian snorted. “You? Your clone is a pure, shining, innocent creature, an unsullied canvas on which I can paint all the misery and corruption of the world. You are a used, raddled stale in comparison, of little worth and less interest.” Lisa’s fists closed unconsciously. “Really?” she said dangerously. Dancer knew what the Chain Knight was getting at though. “Both of us,” she realised. “He wants both of us in exchange for Asil.” Sir Lucian affected to consider this. “That might keep me amused for a while,” he agreed. “If only because I can tell how terrified you are of having to make such a sacrifice.” Dancer was parchment pale, trying no to shiver. “Yes, I’m frightened,” she admitted. “Terrified. But… but if it’ll save Asil, I’ll…” “Be true to your selves,” said the Hooded Hood, stirring painfully then lapsing to silence. “What does that mean?” snorted Sir Lucian. “Really, I’d slash out his tongue if I hadn’t yet to make him properly beg.” “It means no deal,” said Lisa fiercely. “That’s my nature. A total bitch. Ask anyone. So work off your appetites on the kid and leave us alone. She’s only a knock-off clone anyway, so who cares? She doesn’t even like me.” “Lisa!” Sarah was shocked at her team-mates attitude. “You can’t mean it!” “Sure I can,” shrugged the amorous advocatrix. “If it’s her skin or mine, I pick to keep mine, okay?” “I can see you two have much to discuss,” the Chain Knight chuckled. “In the meantime I shall be visiting with Asil. Later you can speak with her and see if her pleadings alter your views on the matter of sacrifice.” He closed the door and vanished down the tunnel. “Come back!” Dancer called to him. “We’ll do a deal. I’ll let you have me! Please!” “Don’t, Dancer,” Lisa warned. “It’s what he wants. Don’t play his game.” “But Asil…” “We need to rescue her, of course,” the first lady of the Lair Legion agreed. “I think the time has come for us to escape.” Dancer looked around the dim filthy cell. “Escape?” she asked. “Without our powers, from some mediaeval dungeon into a stronghold filled with enemies?” “Yes,” answered Lisa. And then she punched Dancer in the face. Suddenly, the plot twisted. “Ouch,” said Visionary, sitting up painfully. “Hey, I have limbs!” “Yes,” agreed the Chronicler of Stories. “You have limbs. No brain, possibly, but limbs.” Vizh struggled to remember what had happened. “We… we were fighting and Yo was battling Frightmare. And then the Nightmare Realms…” “Ceased to exist as Frightmare was destroyed, yes,” the Chronicler sighed. “The Lair Legion’s capacity for cosmic damage never fails to stun me.” “We fell into nothingness, but you rescued us,” the possibly-fake man guessed. “You fell into oblivion because there was nothing left where you had eradicated Frightmare,” Nevermore, the raven perched on the Chronicler’s shoulder, interjected. “And the boss rescued you, Visionary. But only you.” Vizh looked around. “Only me? But… Yo and the others?” “Not relevant,” answered the keeper of continuities harshly. “I only pulled you out of there because I didn’t want to go to all the trouble of dealing with the Apostate again. When you don’t exist…” “I know. I’m a place-holder keeping that big nasty bastard fanatic from invading the Parodyverse,” Vizh grumbled. “But you need to get the LL out of oblivion now.” “He’s not going to, Vizh,” Quoth the trainee raven explained, fluttering down onto her friend’s shoulder. “It’s not his job, and it would affect too many other things. He stretched a point to save you.” “And to shut Quoth up,” added Pallas, most senior of the ravens of destiny, perched atop a bust of some mythological figure. “And now you have to go,” the Chronicler declared. “I can’t interfere with the course of the Resolution War.” “With the what?” worried Vizh. “Wait, you can’t just abandon the LL. And Lisa and…” “Where do you want to be, Vizh?” Quoth asked the possibly-fake man. Visionary told her. The Fortress of Darkness was carved from fractured crystal tainted black, and rose in dizzying razor strands up into the storm-tossed vortex sky. It was guarded by undead, laced with the souls of all those who had died untimely deaths within its blood-smeared walls. Cleone finished her song and slumped back into Sorceress’ arms. “So many of them,” she breathed. “So many people in torment, denied their destinies…” “But you cleared the place, right?” Messenger checked. “Cleared us a passage?” “There are too many trapped spirits here to be easily released,” Sorceress told them bitterly. “Yet again we will have to leave them behind. Like Lisa and Dancer.” “That’s really upsetting you, isn’t it?” Keiko observed. “For more than the obvious reasons.” “Yes,” confessed Whitney Darkness. “I didn’t know they were in the Asylum when I let the Bloodreaper out.” “You what?” demanded Messenger. “You let those psychos in?” “I didn’t know Lisa and Dancer were there,” the Sorceress repeated. “I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known. I thought there was nobody there but the Hooded Hood. I never knew there’d be hostages that would force the Legion to make a suicide attack and…” “This was all revenge?” Keiko asked, slightly impressed. “You let in the Hellraisers to pay back the Hood for pact-binding you, to get yourself free?” Whitney Darkness snorted. “Of course not,” she scorned. “The Chain Knight works for some of the very people responsible for my griefs. I wouldn’t assist him except to an early grave.” “Then why?” asked Messenger. “Why would you possibly let them in to attack the Hooded Hood except to get back at him?” The Sorceress looked at her companions in surprise. “Why, because he asked me to,” she answered simply. “He released me from my indenture to him in exchange for that one single act of apparently betraying him to the Hellraisers.” Cleone led the others up the steps into the fortress of darkness. The Lair Mansion was surrounded by a warding that prevented any from entering territory claimed by the Hellraisers. The Chronicler’s power ignored the prohibition and landed Visionary in the rubble-strewn hallway beyond the missing front doors. The place reeked with death. For a moment Visionary wondered, then hoped, that he’d been transported back into Frightmare’s illusions. Then he opened one of the sealed weapons lockers, took out a Bautismamatic Energy Cannon, and began to search the debris. Flapjack was the first of the support staff he found, lying stiff and cold on the ground where his heart had been torn out and pulped. A little way along on the same basement level were the remains of Art, Randy, and Mindy. With shaking hands Vizh triggered the video playback of their last moments, using the manual systems since the whole mainframe was slagged. That was when he learned of Hallie’s fate and found the crushed remains of the HED she’d been trapped in. He could find no sign of Asil or Amber. He possibly-fake man felt he wanted to curl into a ball and die, or to scream, or to stand numbly and surrender to the horror. But most of all he wanted to find a working communications device in the wreckage of the Lair Mansion. Then he heard the sound behind him, a stealthy movement betrayed by a small thump. His blood ran cold as he realised he wasn’t alone. Something was shifting inside the metal storage locker. Visionary hefted his cannon and considered firing a score of rounds right through the door; but he was unsure whether the charges would just ricochet, and even now he couldn’t bring himself to kill somebody without warning. So instead he pulled open the locker and hefted his gun. “Don’t m…” he called before he was struck on the head and the weapon was knocked from his hands. Visionary found the idea that he was going to die came as something of a relief. “We’re all going to die!” panicked the SPUD helicarrier technician as the reactor core went into meltdown. “That intruder cracked the casing! We’re dead in seconds!” Dan Drury punched him on the nose thoughtfully and lit a cigar. “Computer, ya still hearing me?” “Affirmative. Identifying voice and bioprints for Drury, Daniel P., Colonel, service number…” “Yeah, I know my service number. Anyway, on my say so activate protocol Fertilizer Drop, security over-ride DiMaggio Ruth Gehrig Cockrane Gehringer.” The helicarrier acknowledged the command and activated the dimensional jump engines Al B. Harper had added at the time of the Technopolis war. For the briefest moment the helicarrier flitted from Earth, then returned as its power failed; but it left its ruptured nuclear core behind in another plane of reality. “We’re… alive?” the technician with the broken nose marvelled. “Yeah, an’ droppin’ like a brick since we ain’t got no power,” the SPUD director pointed out. “If it’s not one thing it’s another.” Nosferos and his undead horde pressed against the lobby of the hospital but they couldn’t get inside; not without an invitation from someone in authority. Grace O’Mercy glided through the deserted reception area and opened the door to the vampire master. “You have not brought anyone who can grant me entrance,” observed the gaunt bald blood-drinker. “I didn’t need to,” the Night Nurse answered him. “This is my place. I can grant you entrance.” With surprise Nosferos realised that it was true. “Then bid me enter, slave, and join me in the feast.” Grace took an involuntary step forward then shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she denied the master. Nosferos bared his fangs in a cruel snarling grin. “You cannot resist me, little wisp of unlife. I have debased you once, and your second experience shall be far less pleasant.” “Really?” Grace retorted, anger giving her will. “Well I’ve come a long way in a very short time, baldy. You’re not coming in. This is my place, and these are my people, and you can go back to hell.” The wave of anger from Nosferos almost drove her to her knees. “You dare?” the vampire lord hissed. “You insolent shade? You cannot resist me! You have drunk the blood of the living and revelled in the feast of the damned.” “I’ve tasted Hatman’s blood, that’s true,” Grace O’Mercy admitted. “And I’ve grown strong from it, like you said I would. Such rich, powerful blood, laced with the Serious Matter that empowers him.” Nosferos looked up sharply. “I’ve faced my abyss,” the Night Nurse hissed, her fangs gleaming in the artificial neon lights. “I’ve fought my demons. And do you know what I’ve learned, Nosferos the Undying?” “What?” demanded the raging night-stalker. Grace headbutted the vampire on his beaky nose, bringing her nurse’s cap into contact with his emaciated face; the cap with the big red cross sewn to it. “Do no harm!” the protector of the Phantomhawk Memorial Hospital told him. Nosferos staggered back, clutching his head, then gestured and jerked Grace from the floor to hang helplessly before him. “You will regret your actions for a screaming eternity.” There was a golden flash and suddenly Bry Kats was there. In another burst of light he’d teleported Grace out of Nosferos’ clutch and across the hallway. “What?” Grace gasped as she realised she was still alive; or as alive as she had been anyway. “What have you done? No-one’s protecting the door!” “They are,” Goldeneyed assured her. “We’ve got it covered.” Reverend Mac Fleetwood stood propped up by Beth Shellett and Laurie Leyton at the Emergency Room entrance and faced the vampire horde. Grace and Bry moved unsteadily to flank him. He raised up a cross and stared at Nosferos. “Come and have a go,” he said to the vampire lord, “if you think you’re hard enough.” Visionary woke up to see a nude woman leaning over him dabbing his forehead with his pocket handkerchief. “Sorry,” she apologised profusely. “Oh Vizh, I’m sorry.” The possibly fake man relaxed into his concussion. He liked this concussion. “No problem,” he answered on autopilot, “I’ve been hit on the head lots of times. I know how to take a hit to the head. This one was easy. I’m enjoying this blow to the head.” “I thought you were the Hellraisers. I thought they’d found me.” Visionary nodded then wished he hadn’t moved his head. “Hiding out was the smart thing,” he agreed. “I thought they’d killed you, Hallie! They killed everybody!” The green -skinned woman looked down at the sad remains of her Holographic Emitter Drone. “So did I,” she agreed. “I think they might have.” She grabbed Vizh’s hand and urgently pressed it to her breast so he could feel her pounding heart. “Vizh, I’m flesh and blood!” The possibly fake man had to agree that she certainly was. There was a part of Kerry Shepherdson that she hid from the world. That was the part behind the sarcastic teenager who constantly tested the people around her desperately hoping they cared enough to overlook her stream of abuse. It was a part she hated to show, because it made her (in her eyes) weak and vulnerable. It was the part where she would never, ever let down a friend. That was why, long after she should have given up and died, Kerry was still knelt in the microscopic crack Fleabot had shrunk himself, the Juniors, and Elizabeth von Zemo to avoid destruction by the Hellraisers and strained past all sense to deflect the raging fires around the kitchen tile from immolating them all. “Keep it up, Kes,” Fashion Accessory encouraged her desperately. “Please.” “No… problem…” Kerry answered, wiping the blood from her nose and eyes. “Piece… of… cake…” “I don’t know if Harlagaz is breathing,” worried Lindy Wilson. “Glory’s not much better.” “Hey, what are you doing?” Ham-Boy demanded of the Baroness as she and Hacker Nine pulled open Fleabot’s service panels. “We’re looking to boost the short-term emergency transmitter,” H9 explained. “If anybody’s looking for us they might pick up a signal despite this static.” “It’s a fairly simple procedure,” noted Elizabeth, who had studied Fleabot’s stats in her uncle’s files. “These model one Fleabots had dozens of pointless redundant features.” “Hey, I’m right here,” complained the robot flea. “And I could do this myself if only my legs bent that way.” “The grating personality was one of the pointless redundant features,” the Baroness pointed out. “Hold still, can’t you?” “Got it!” Hacker Nine called out. “But it’ll only work on a radius of about five feet. I don’t think…” Lindy let out a little scream as a huge sea monkey levered his way down into the crack. “Eew,” said FA. “Not the angle we most want to see, Banjooooo.” “Oh sure,” said micro-spiffy, dropping down from his best friend’s webbed hands at the same scale as the Juniors. “Complain about the way we’re saving your lives.” “You found us?” the Baroness said in disbelief. “Well, with a little help from Enty’s whiz-o-scope,” Banjoooo admitted. The King of the Sea Monkeys winced. “It picked up Fleabot’s signal before the device kind of exploded.” “Smart work there, that robot,” spiffy applauded. “Thanks,” smirked Fleabot. “Hey!” objected the Baroness. “I was the one who…” “You’re Beth Sweetwater?” spiffy checked. “Vizh’s neighbour?” “Back when there was a neighbourhood,” Elizabeth von Zemo admitted cautiously. “Why?” “Oh, you’ve got an anxious boyfriend up top is all,” the fern-wielder explained. “I’ve got a what?” “Guys, can we get out of here somehow?” Fashion Accessory pleaded. “Before people bleed to death and Kerry explodes.” “Or take your time if you need to,” countered the Baroness. “I’ve exhausted my size-changing particles,” Fleabot reminded them. “Aw, changing size is easy for a Sea-Monkey Prince,” Banjoooo pointed out. “Up-up-and-away!” The juniors were suddenly full sized again, amidst the charred smouldering wreckage of Visionary’s Condo. The fires were being doused by the fast-moving blur of De Brown Streak, aided by a torrential downpour that was focussed on one small neighbourhood block courtesy of the glowering titan in the horny helmet. “Hey, Beth!” called Josh Clement, screeching to a stop. “Glad I was passing by. I was starting to get worried.” “Normally I like my gentleman friends to call ahead,” the Baroness admitted. “This one time I’ll make an exception.” She looked over at the remains of her house. “I am so going to sue Visionary’s ass for this.” “Harlagaz!” cried Donar, hemigod of thunder, lifting up his beaten son. “Who didst this?” “I’m thinking it was Maladomini’s Hellraiser buddies,” Fashion Accessory suggested. “Wast is?” growled the prince of Ausgard; and suddenly the tempest was no longer in Nosferos’ control. “Kerry, it’s okay,” Hacker Nine told the exhausted probability arsonist. “You can stop now. We’re saved.” The shivering girl looked up blearily “Saved? Visionary?” Lindy pointed to spiffy and Banjoooo. “Well actually it was those guys. You know, the ex-boyfriend you kind of blew up yesterday?” “No actually it was Vizh,” Mark Hopkins admitted. “He called us up using the emergency backup lines at the Lair Mansion. You know he’s the most powerful Legionnaire of all, right?” “Visionary?” Hacker Nine questioned. “Oh yeah,” agreed NTU-150 as he helped evacuate the juniors onto Donar’s goat-cart to be cared for in the Ausgardian Halls of Healing. “He’s the guy with all of our pager numbers.” “Heh,” snorted De Brown Streak. The mutate speedster was grimy with soot from the fires he’d doused. “That’s pretty cool.” NTU-150 nodded. “When Vizh calls, we come running.” “The feeb,” smiled Kerry as she passed into a deep sleep. Donar lifted the exhausted girl gently onto the chariot and whispered instructions to his goats. “And now we art here,” he exclaimed as the bizarre transport rattled off. “Fell deeds hast transpired, and the heavens cry vengeance on the foul transgressors! Our friends and kinsfolk must be avenged!” He raised Mjalcolm to the skies. “Let the smiting begin for the nonce.” *** “Oh do go away, you nasty unsanitary man!” Lady Marjorie Wilson told the Bloodreaper, and shifted him ten minutes into the future. That left the Hood’s shattered throne room unguarded so Madge and Asil entered. “There’s the Portal of Pretentiousness,” Asil pointed out, “but it’s broken.” “Of course it’s broken,” the Keeper of the Chronometer of Infinity pointed out. “Otherwise those Hellraisers would have been trying to use it to follow the Lair Legion. Mumphrey used the pocketwatch to smash it. And do you know why he used the pocketwatch, Asil?” “Because only a primal artefact could smash a primal artefact,” Mumphrey’s amanuensis suggested, “and… because then the pocketwatch could reverse the damage it had caused when the time was right?” “Very good,” approved Marjorie Wilton. “I can see why Mumphrey thinks so highly of you.” “Mumphrey thinks highly of me?” Asil flushed “Of course he does, my dear. You’ve been very good for him. I was getting worried he might turn into a complete moper, but look at him now, leading that Lair Legion and everything. Splendid work, Miss Ashling.” There were a few moments to chat while Lady Wilton made the complicated adjustments necessary to the pocketwatch to undo the shattering of a primal artefact. “I saw him when he was sixteen for a short while,” Asil ventured. “He seemed very different, but somehow very much the same as well.” “That’s a good description,” Madge agreed. “I’ve been using the Chronometer to monitor his timeline since the contingency brought me back.” “Oh,” worried Asil. “So you know about the doo… about Lisa.” “Mumphrey always was a vigorous man,” Madge smiled. “I liked that about him. Oh, don’t fret Asil. I wed him till death do us part, and he was always true to his word. I don’t begrudge him a little comfort now I’m gone.” She glimpsed at the anxious girl. “Or even another true love,” she added. “I don’t think they’re actually in love,” Asil considered. “I mean, I don’t have any actual experience in that department, but I don’t see…” “Your time will come,” Marjorie suggested. “You have all the time in the world.” “Actually,” noted the Chain Knight, “I think not. I think you’ll discover that your time has run out.” The portal to the Hellraisers’ sponsors was in the library at the heart of the Fortress of Darkness. Cleone knew just how to activate it because Xander did, and the swanmay opened the rift into a white void beyond. A single red thread twisted away into oblivion. “That’s our path,” she declared. “At the end of it we’ll find Xander and Joe and Knifey, and the people who are responsible for unleashing the Hellraisers.” “And for some reason Xander doesn’t want Donar or Finny or somebody to help him out, he wants me,” noted Messenger. “Emphatically,” Cleone agreed. “We don’t communicate telepathically, but we know each other’s needs. He needs Sorceress and Messenger.” “We’d better go, then,” Whitney Darkness declared. “It’s not good to hang around looking into those kinds of voids.” “Go then,” Keiko agreed. “I’ve done my part, getting you here. Right, Cleone?” The swanmay looked surprised. “Why yes,” she agreed, “and of course Xander will do whatever he can about your… problems if we all get though this. But we can’t leave you here.” “You said there were thousands of souls stuck in this fortress of darkness?” Keiko suggested. “And that the only way to free them was to bring this place down?” “Oh.” Messenger caught on and his face twisted into a wicked grin. “But that would require a trained assassin with top grade stealth abilities and a ruthless precision.” “Yes,” Keiko smiled back at him. “Wouldn’t it? Can I borrow some of your parcel bombs?” “As long as you promise to come shopping with me afterwards to replace them.” “Are you asking me out on a date?” “Would you come if I did?” “Can we possibly get on with saving the universe?” demanded Sorceress. “Please?” “He’s immune to chronal interference,” Madge Wilton warned, as Sir Lucian walked slowly towards them, barbed chains flicking. Asil pushed Lady Wilton behind her and faced the Chain Knight. “Stay back,” she warned the Hellraiser. “She’s under my protection.” Sir Lucian laughed. “And who’s going to protect you from me, little Asil?” Lisa and Dancer filled the doorway behind him. “That would be us,” suggested the first lady of the Lair Legion. The Chain Knight was unimpressed. “And who is going to save you, my dears?” The Hooded Hood stalked in past them and stared at the Hellraiser through vengeful glowing green eyes. “That would be me.” Next time, in our double-sized penultimate chapter: The Who’s Who of the Parodyverse becomes even more out of date, Xander does a conjuring trick, Keiko vs the Chain Knight, Donar’s last stand, and the Dead Lords of Hell unleash their wrath on the Lair Legion. A few uphill fights, really, in UT#196: Diabolical Plots Link to CrazySugarFreakBoy!'s tie-in story Breaking the Fourth Wall, Buddy Baker Style As the Footnote Turns: There’s a few things happen in this chapter after the scene where the plot twists that aren’t explained until next time – such as why Lisa punches Dancer, how Hallie survived and became human, why the Hooded Hood had Sorceress betray him, and how the Hooded Hood is restored – but if people are really desperate I’m sure Killer Shrike will explain it to them. Meanwhile, here’s a few brief notations: Lady Marjory Violet Wilton OBE (nee Canterbury, a.k.a. “Madge”) is usually the late wife of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, and his partner in adventure back in the 1940s and 50s. The meeting and romance of the determined young lady and the eccentric Englishman is outlined in Sir Mumphrey Wilton and the Lost Temple of Mystery, a multi-part story archived amongst The Journals of Sir Mumphrey Wilton. The Chronicler of Stories is a powerful being tasked with maintaining the narrative strands that form the reality of the Parodyverse. He works to some unfathomable cosmic rules of engagement, and he’s no longer able to interfere with the coming Resolution War. However, he is able to interfere to prevent Visionary from being oblivioned out of existence (again), since it has been established that the possibly-fake man is a “place-holder” prevented the existence of the dangerous mind-bending archvillain the Apostate. Vizh can die without it causing any problem, but being seared from reality would let the Apostate back, and he caused enough trouble last time. Hence the Chronicler’s concern. Also in this scene we see three of the Chronicler’s trademark Ravens of Destiny, senior Pallas, nevermore, and junior raven Quoth. The SPUD Helicarrier is a flying aircraft carrier used by the Super-menace Principal Undercover Directorate in its battle to protect mankind against extranormal threats. During the Technopolis War it was fitted with dimension-shifting engines to take it to the Technoverse. This is the first indication we’ve seen that it has retained that alien technology Shame it’s crashed, really. There’s extra points for everybody who works out what the names Drury uses for his password all have in common. Lair Legion Rescue Squad: Visionary’s ad-hoc team of Juniors-rescuers consists of: spiffy (Mark Hopkins), current President-for-Life of Badripoor and proud owner of a symbiotic energy-controlling fern Banjoooo, King of the Sea Monkeys, spiffy’s longtime friend, a size-changing heroic shrimp Donar, hemigod of thunder, lord of the lightnings, etc, and somewhat angry father of Harlagaz NTU-150 (Jamie Bautista), armoured cyborg millionaire industrialist inventor De Brown Streak (Joshua J Clement), outlaw mutate speedster and occasional date of Baroness von Zemo The Resolution War: Untold Tales has long established that the Parodyverse was created by unknown entitites to resolve some cosmic question, and that the culmination of that creation will be the ragnarok of the Parodyverse, the Resolution War, which will answer this question (whatever it is) once and for all. Wilbur Parody, the only being to have held all three of the Triumverate offices of Shaper, Chronicler, and Destroyer, cheated and wrote down some of the information known uniquely to each of these offices (and which is usually forgotten when the incumbent steps down) in some books of prophecy, fragments of which have been leaked. One volume is held by the Order of the Observing Eye. Another has been browsed by the Hooded Hood. The Resolution War is so inevitable that the prophecy of it has become a sentient force, shaping narratives to attempt to meet the conditions wherein that war would come about. Lord Resolution, the personification of the prophecy, is the captive of the Dead hell Lords and it is his power which is enabling them to bring about their own twisted version of the apocalypse. However, some people are not at all keen to be part of this bold experiment, such as the Hooded Hood who has persistently tried to prevent the Resolution War from occurring and who plots to one day wreak vengeance on those unknown creators that torment the Paordyverse for their pleasure. The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Who's Who in the Parodyverse Where's Where in the Parodyverse Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
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