|
|
Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: The Darkness and the Dawn, or Lots of Quiet, Charactery Bits and One Bloody Massacre Friday, 14-Jan-2000 12:06:17
Those who wish to see previous chapters of this story may wish to visit The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom. #18 or #34 may be good jumping-on points. #36: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: The Darkness and the Dawn, or Lots of Quiet, Charactery Bits and One Bloody Massacre Andrew Dean sat beneath a crystal night sky and stared at the stars. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Banjooooo agreed, looking into the crisp, frosty heavens. “You people who have lived above the surface of the sea have grown up with them, but whenever I see them they take my breath away.” The man who was usually Fin Fang Foom pointed to one of the distant lights. “That’s Makluos, where the dragons came from,” he noted. “There was some kind of disaster – Galactivac maybe, or something really heavy anyway – and they scattered across the stars. Finny crashed on Earth. This was before I merged with him of course.” “You miss being Foom?” Banjooooo guessed. “I know what you mean. I miss being Banjooooo. Well, I am Banjooooo, obviously, but in this Hood retcon we’re trapped in I’m a powerless, disfigured human, not the genetically-enhanced leader of the sea monkeys. So what I really mean is…” “I know what you mean,” Andrew Dean assured him. “I’ve been Finny since I was seven. I can’t really remember not being a dragon, being confined to just one shape, unable to fly.” He paused and got to what was really bothering him. “Unable to defend people who need it.” Banjooooo looked back to the burned out farm where they had camped their refugees tonight. Tomorrow would be the last day of their journey, whatever befell. Either they would get through the valley known as Freedom Pass out of the Hood’s Zone of Cleansing or they would die at the hands of HuntingJustice DeathMarrow’s mercenaries. “We’ve save a lot of them,” the erstwhile sea monkey suggested. “And we’ve lost some too,” frowned the ex-Makluan. “The Hood’s got us playing his games again, and this time people are dying because of it. Well this is the last time. I swear it!” The stars continued their eternal vigil as the two Legionnaires continued their guard duty. “Push. Push. That’s it. And now relax,” Sorceress advised. The woman before her slumped backwards. The new baby she had just brought into the world filled its lungs with its first breath and screamed its arrival. “Pass me Knifey, ManMan,” Whitney asked. Joe Pepper handed his blade backwards so that he didn’t have to look. “She’s only cutting the umbilical, ManMan,” Hatty told the Elvis impersonator. “Hey, we’ve seen so much death these last three days it’s great to see a little life beginning.” “It’s okay now, Selga,” the Sorceress smiled to the new mother. “It was a pretty tough birth but I’m going to stitch you up as good as new, and in the meantime you just hold this lovely new baby girl in your arms. Jay, pick ManMan up and revive him somewhere please.” “Mayest I see the baby?” asked Donar. With Selga’s consent the Sorceress passed the tiny infant into the sometime hemigod of thunder’s massive hands. He held the child close to his whiskers and looked at it very closely. “Heilsa, daughter of Selga, child of Gail,” he bade the newborn. “Thou hast chosen troublous times to come amongst us, but thou are a blessing e’en so. And thou wilt grow and prosper in a world where thou needst not fear. So swears Donar Oldmanson, under the vault of the stars and by his life’s blood. So mote it be!” “You know, sometimes it turns out that Donar is a god after all,” whispered Hatty to Whitney. “And sometimes the greatest miracles happen in such everyday ways we don’t notice them,” she whispered back, returning the child to her mother. “And sometimes miracles are really gross,” moaned ManMan, gradually picking himself off the floor. “Is it just my imagination, or is everyone avoiding you?” Trickshot asked the lonely figure who had risen to stare into the darkness for the second watch. Clouds had obscured the stars by now, and the adventurous archer could only make out the silhouette of the man called Messenger. “They’re avoiding me,” the postman answered darkly. “I shot Jarvis, I nearly killed Starseed, and I wiped out a bunch of scum who deserved to be sent to the pits of hell. I’m on the run with a death sentence hanging over me. The Lair Legion thinks I’m mad, bad, and dangerous to know.” “Hey, in the parallel universe where I came from I shot Jarvis once,” enthused Trickshot. “It’s no big deal. Everybody crippled Jarvis sometime. As for the rest, well, I dunno about any of that, but I’ve seen you fighting here to keep people alive, man, and that’s what counts in Brother Trickshot’s book.” “So you’re from another reality,” Messenger noted. “That explains it.” “Explains what?” The postman drew his trenchcoat around him. “Why you’re here. How you’re here. Didn’t you know we’d had a Trickshot in our version of the Parodyverse too, once upon a time?” “No. What happened to him?” Trickshot was surprised that he hadn’t cottoned on to this sooner, but it made a lot of sense now he thought about it. “Zemo killed him. I don’t know what happened to his widow after that. I think she went off to some kind of espionage training programme or something.” He shrugged. “It was all a long time ago.” “Widow?” echoed Trickshot. “I’m going to check those woods over there,” the postman announced. He paused for a moment and looked back over his shoulder. “I think she was called Natalie or something. Thanks for trying to talk to me.” Then he was gone. “Widow?” repeated Trickshot. “I don’t remember any of it,” Tina admitted. “It all sounds so fantastic. A world with superheroes and telepathic powers and, and you and me…?” “I guess the Hood thought it would be more fun to wipe out your memory like he evidently has done DarkHwk’s,” NTU-150 scowled. “But I thought you’d remember if I told you.” “No. I don’t even believe it,” the Red Cross worker told him. “It’s not even a good chat-up line: ‘Hi babe, I was your boyfriend in another dimension…’” And yet here she was, huddled warm under this strange crippled man’s blanket, and feeling safer than she had done since she’d first come to this bleeding, desperate land. “I don’t.” “It doesn’t matter right now, anyway,” Enty suggested. “All that’s important is getting these people to safety tomorrow.” Tina looked him in the eyes. “And we both know that’s not really going to happen, don’t we, even though we know we have to try?” “What do you mean?” The Filipino girl sighed. “They know where we’re headed. We’ve fended off their patrols, managed to keep most of our people together and alive despite their harrying us, but tomorrow HuntingJustice DeathMarrow and DarkHwk are going to have half their army sitting in wait for when we try and get through the passes. And then we’ll die.” What do I say to that? wondered Jaimie Bautista. “I can’t think of any better way to go,” he finally said. “Or anyone else I’d want by my side at the end.” She almost broke down at that, but caught herself at the last minute as one of the refugees shuffled up to them. “Mister Clavunka, what’s the matter? Is your frostbite hurting you again?” The man was prematurely old, his face lined with the sorrows of his last few seasons. “No, it’s nothing like that,” the refugee said with a strange kind of dignity. “You have been more than kind to me and everybody here, Miss Calvarez. But I cannot help overhearing what you and the young man have been whispering. My apologies, but my hearing remains acute. I have something to say to you.” “What’s that, Mr Clavunka?” Enty asked politely. “I think like you do that tomorrow will be a trap. But we will go anyway, because it may be better to die quickly under fire than slowly here of ice and starvation. I know you and your wonderful friends will do what they can to save us, but I also know you will probably fail at the cost of your lives.” He paused a moment to choose his next words. “And I wanted to say thank you.” “Thanks for getting you killed?” Jaimie sighed. “No. Thank you for reminding us that not everybody is like those people who persecute us, or as some of us have become, cruel and hateful. Thank you for showing us that bravery, and kindness, and love – yes, I am old but I can see it even if you two don’t yet – love aren’t driven from the Earth. If we have to die tomorrow we will die with hope still in our hearts, knowing that the human race is not lost. And that, Mr NTU, Miss Calvarez, is a death worth dying.” Finny woke up early, and was annoyed that ManMan’s talking had interrupted his all-too-short sleep. Intending to remonstrate the loud-mouthed Elvis impersonator, the once-dragon slipped across the ruins to where the noise was coming from just outside the door. “…and the handsome prince hacked through the forest of thorns, and there he saw the enchanted castle just like the fairies had told him. Inside was the sleeping princess, laid on a bed of satin, with her long red hair spread out over the pillow,” ManMan was saying. The ragged refugee children were listening with rapt attention as he transported them far away to a land where no mercenaries hunted them. “And so the prince put his faithful Knifey back in its sheath, and leaned over the princess to wake her with a kiss…” Fin Fang Foom slipped quietly back to his bedroll. “How are the wounds this morning, Jay?” Whitney asked the wounded Hatman. “Hurt like hell, which means they must be getting better,” Hatty answered hopefully. He was amazed how good the Sorceress looked in the mornings. Even after days of trudging in the snow and sleeping rough she had a kind of tousled gorgeousness that put a lump in his throat. “Well, let me take a look and see if you need more dressings on them.” “How much underwear do you have?” Jay wondered, blushing as he recalled finding out what Whitney had used to staunch his wounds. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she suggested with an arched eyebrow. Hatty was so flustered by that that he almost forget to wince as she ripped the blood-soaked rags off his bullet-wounds. “Seriously though, Whitney,” he said. “What the hell has been happening these last few weeks? There’s been, what, some sort of Demon Lover who grabbed my soul so he could force you to have his baby, and then you tried to kill me so you could be with him, and then you turned on him to save me, and then I kicked his ass and damn near died again because my life-force was linked with his, and the next thing I know we’re here in this freezing war-zone running for our lives and playing nursemaid to a hundred twenty refugees. You’ve got to admit, that’s a lot for a guy to deal with.” Sorceress admitted that it was. “I’m no less confused than you, Jay. To be honest, I think I’m broken-hearted about losing the Love-Talker. I know he was pure evil, but I did love him – or at least part of me did. And I do love you too. I’m just not sure what sort of love it is.” “What do you mean?” puzzled Hatty. “I mean whether it’s this sort of love,” answered the Sorceress, kissing him on the cheek, “or this sort of love,” and she kissed him on the lips, “or maybe this sort of love,” and the kiss she gave him then scorched his mouth and sent him reeling into a parade of biological and emotional reactions. “I see,” he gasped at last. “So I suggest we get out of this, get these people safe, sort out the Hood, all that stuff. And then sometime maybe we go out for dinner somewhere and have a long talk and maybe hold hands and see where we go from there? How about it?” “Sure,” smiled Hatty. “That sounds perfect.” He thought for a moment. “Er, what were those three kinds of love again?” he ventured. DarkHwk did not view the dawn with any anticipation. He watched the spreading red streak of dawn over the Eastern plains with a grim fatalism from his vantage point above Freedom Pass. Behind him the peace-keeping force which had brought peace to this land by decimating anyone they found here to free up its natural resources for exploitation prepared their final massacre. Zane knew the heroes would have to come this way. The pass remained the only way that unequipped civilians on foot had any chance of getting across the mountain chain and over to the more civilised lands beyond the zone of conflict. If the refugees could but get there they would be fed, clothed, rehoused into the perfect society the Hooded Hood had imposed; but they would never make it. HuntingJustice DeathMarrow was aware of the resistance now. She had seen the bodies of her pet death squad, she had been frustrated as search team after search team returned baffled or not at all. DarkHwk could picture her now, ripping the arrow from the throat of one of her mercenaries’ corpses and snapping it in her anger. She knew that the first effective resistance to her operation was due along that mountain track today, and she had set up her killing field. “What troubles you, captain?” DarkHwk turned round to see his commander watching him, her battle-armour gleaming over her barely-covered body. “I was reflecting about today, sir,” he answered. “I was wondering if we could find a way to separate the resistance fighters from the refugees. That way we could let the innocents go and still punish those who have fought against us.” “There are no innocents,” HuntingJustice DeathMarrow spat. “They are all terrorists. They must all die.” She looked carefully at Zane. “I trust you are fully with me on this?” she said dangerously. DarkHwk knew that she still blamed him for allowing the Red Cross woman to continue this epic escape trek. “Of course, sir,” he answered numbly. “Then get to work. Some of the patrols noticed a bright flash at these co-ordinates, perhaps a grenade or something. Scout it out and kill whoever you find there.” “Yes sir,” the unhappy armoured adventurer answered. “Lissen, guys, I know I’m the newbie here, but I wuz with my version of the Lair Legion a long time…” Trickshot told Donar, Banjoooo and Enty as the refugee train was preparing to move. “I guess they had more practise at ignoring you?” NTU-150 suggested. “Hey, you’re not still sore at me takin’ Tina from… nah, this isn’t the time to pull yer chain,” Tricky sighed. “But it is time for you guys to face some facts. We’ve all faced death a lotta times in our work, and we’ve all thought about what the last time’s gonna be like. You know, the one that gets us.” “Sooner or later everybody does,” Banjooooo admitted. “Sure we think about it. But we don’t talk about it.” “It art a great honour to die in glorious battle in preservation of innocents and then partake of revelry forever in Valhalen for the nonce,” Donar opined. “Yeah, what you said,” Trickshot breathed. “But we all know this fight’s going to be kinda different, right? We don’t have powers an’ we’re tryin’ to save six score of victims. It’s gonna get nasty.” “So what’s your point?” NTU-150 demanded. “My point is that there’s one loose end that’s not been tied up, stuff that the LL needs to straighten out before we… in case we don’t make it. Legion business.” “What business art this?” asked Donar. “If it ist team hugs then I art going to rend thee limb from limb.” “Nah, nothing like that,” the irritating archer assured the hemigod. “It’s him.” And he nodded over to where Messenger kept lonely watch over the road down to Freedom Pass. “The postman?” Banjooooo scowled. “What about him? He was never really one of us.” “He wert,” Donar admitted honestly. “And he betrayed his trust.” “Sure, he’s no saint,” Trickshot conceded. “Which of us is? An’ I don’t cotton on to his killing bad guys who could be dragged back for the courts to deal with. But he’s also a hero, and he’s put himself on the line for all these folks here and for us just like the rest of us, and he’s never let us down once where it really counted.” “So what are you suggesting?” Enty asked. “We vote him back in and give him a medal?” “I’m suggestin’ that over there’s the loneliest guy in the world, and the joes what used to be his friends ought to let him know that they still respect him, even if they don’t agree with him.” Donar considered this. Then he rose suddenly. “Yon bowman speaks verily. If I art to go hence to Vanhalen today then most greatly will I welcome Messenger hence also and quaff with him.” “It is unfinished Lair business,” Banjooooo admitted, looking at Enty for support. Jaimie Bautista held out for a few moments then surrendered with a snort. “Let’s go shake the damn postman’s hand,” he conceded. “Then he can join us in kicking the sh*t out of Trickshot here.” DarkHwk’s helmet display switched to infrared so he could more easily track the person moving under cover of the scrubby trees below. Once he got a clear lock on the lone target he vectored down and bracketed the man with a series of amulet blasts. Taken by surprise, the traveller slipped as they dodged the barrage and skidded down the steep hillside. The amulet-powered adventurer swooped down for the kill. The victim was clad in an all-black bodysuit, which marked him out as one of the strange band of rebels who had destroyed the relocation camp and had neutralised English Man and his mercenaries. “Hey, Darky, hold it! It’s me!” Goldeneyed shouted as the purple-black armoured warrior powered down towards him, claws extended. DarkHwk didn’t stop. Bry Katz remembered just in time that Xander had warned him his powers wouldn’t work here so he threw himself into some bushes (despite the jab of agony that sent through his unhealed ribs) just in time to avoid the armoured attacker’s killing dive. “What the…?” G-Eyed puzzled. DarkHwk was supposed to be one of the good guys – most days. “I am loyal to the Hooded Hood. Loyal,” DarkHwk snarled, all the more vehement because he was trying to convince himself. He rounded and came back at his target again. Goldeneyed rolled aside and was only caught a glancing slash from those razor-claws. As he scrabbled to his feet a grapple-wire looped round his throat. Darkhwk powered upwards, dragging Goldeneyed behind him, choking as the thin cord cut into his neck. “Thus die all rebels!” the amulet-powered adventurer proclaimed. And even as he said it he knew he was in the wrong. One of the people here was fighting for the ideals that had spurred DarkHwk to pledge his allegiance to a leader he thought could bring peace and justice; and it wasn’t DarkHwk. The captain of the peacekeepers gently lowered the choking hero to the ground and loosed his talon-wire. “Alright, talk,” he demanded of Goldeneyed. “Who are you and what the hell are you up to?” “Me?” gasped G-Eyed, choking for breath. “What about you? Don’t you feel complete unless you try to murder a Legionnaire every few…” Then he remembered the other part of Xander’s briefing, on how some of the heroes he was going to rescue might not know who they were. “Let’s try this again. Hi. I’m Goldeneyed, and I’m here to find a big bunch of good guys.” “You are seeking the defenders of the refugees?” “Sounds about right,” considered G-Eyed. “Are you one of them?” “DarkHwk considered this. “Y’know… I think I just might be.” “Alright, change of plan,” Messenger announced, pointing down to the ordinance survey map which DarkHwk had provided the rebels with. “Thanks to the additional tactical information we now have we know where HuntingJustice DeathMarrow is going to spring her little ambush on us. We also know where the army has deployed its troops to box us in. But most importantly, we’re no longer trying to get these refugees out of the far end of Freedom Pass.” “We’re not?” puzzled Hatman. “They’d have no chance against the minefields that we… that HuntingJustice DeathMarrow has laid down over the last two days,” DarkHwk shuddered. “Then how do you propose we get a hundred and twenty desperate, wounded, starving people to safety?” demanded Enty. “I can try and whip something up that can detonate land mines at a distance I suppose, but for some reason my kind of electronics don’t seem to work here, so…” “He’s not plannin’ on dropping these people off in the Hood’s supposedly-safe territory, are you Messy?” Trickshot grinned. “There’s no point.” “No point?” Banjooooo frowned. “We’re supposed to be preserving their lives.” “By handing them to our enemy?” Messenger snarled. “Oh no. We still need to get them into the pass, but only as far as here.” “There? But that’s the place where I have to get you guys back to, the only place where my teleportation powers will work to return us to the Dreary Dimension!” G-Eyed puzzled. Then his brain caught up. “Oh no… no. We can’t just zap all these folks to the Dreary Dimension. I can’t teleport that many people anyway, and Exile will have an apoplexy.” “I don’t understand half of this conversation,” Tina admitted, “but if there’s a safe haven, even just a less dangerous haven for these people, then I say we use it.” “It art a clever solution, and one which the Hood mayest not have foreseen,” reasoned Donar. “And any plan that gives Exy an apoplexy can’t be all bad,” added ManMan. “Then we’ll do it,” Finny decided. “But we’re still going to have to run the gauntlet as far as that point, and there’s an awful lot of troops between here and the exfiltration site.” “We shall split our forces in half,” Messenger suggested. “Team A will lead the refugees back with Goldeneyed to the escape area. DarkHwk will be with them so that he can use his authority as captain of the guard to redeploy the soldiers out of the way. In the meantime, team B will go and trigger this ambush here to keep DeathMarrow occupied.” “That’s the suicide squad,” ManMan noted. “I’m in,” Foom announced. “It’s a desperate plan, but the best that we’ve got,” NTU-150 adjudged. “Let’s go, legionnaires.” The false assault on the forces of occupation began just around the change of watch, when the bleary-eyed night guard were unslinging the arms and the shivering new watchmen were still stamping their feet to combat the cold. A lone figure in archaic Norse armour appeared on the high ground to the East, turned his back on them, and lowered his trews. “Ho, felons!” called to them, “Thou are craven cowards and can kiss mine hairy ass!” “Get him!” the watch sergeant shouted, and turned to his radio to warn that the expected incursion had begun. An arrow sliced the field telephone from his hand. The troops in pursuit of Donar found he had scrambled further up one of the ridges of the mountainous pass. “Come and have a go with the Nordic aggro!” the hemigod suggested to them. Instead they unslung their machine guns and fired. “Poltroons!” Donar bellowed at them as he dived for cover, mortified that mortal lead should force him to retreat. What kind of thunder god was worried by bullets? Finny felt that Donar had got the soldiers into position beautifully, and started the avalanche down on them. “He’s over there!” the watch sergeant was shouting, pointing to a small outcrop from which Trickshot had already taken down three of his man. “If bullets can’t penetrate his cover, use mortars!” That was Banjooooo’s cue. Leaping up from the snow tunnel he’d been concealed in he seized the sergeant by the legs and brought him down in one swift action. “This’ll hurt you more than it hurts me,” the king of the sea-monkeys admitted. There was general confusion for a moment as the chain of command was interrupted, but Banjooooo was quickly clubbed to the ground and a rough-looking corporal hefted a rocket launcher at Trickshot’s position. The first shot fell short, but not by much. All the attention was on the siege of Donar and Finny’s position, on subduing the deformed creature that had critically pantsed the sergeant, and on flushing out the archer. Even the men who manned the battle-tank were busy looking at the action, when they should have been looking at the man in the trenchcoat and postal worker’s garb who was right behind them. Everybody looked the right way soon enough when the first shot from the tank took out the command centre. For a moment the plan was working beautifully. The sentries were routed, Donar and Finny raced across the snow and liberated the battered Banjoooo, Trickshot picked off three more mercenaries as they scattered. Then the Sentinoids rose up from the snow just as Banjoooo had earlier. “A trap,” Finny said just before they shredded Messenger’s tank and things got really nasty. DarkHwk had performed superbly, diverting troops away from the ragged refugee train and bringing the limping, desperate people to the place where Xander was holding open a small gateway to the Dreary Dimension. When they were near enough, G-Eyed could feel the time/space gap and hurried on to prepare himself for an act he felt was going to hurt an awful lot. “Not bad going, Darky,” Hatty admitted, still being assisted by Sorceress after his earlier injuries. At least he wasn’t being pulled along on a blanket like the semi-defunct NTU-150. “You have a natural gift for deception and betrayal. In a good way,” he added quickly. “I can’t believe it’s working!” Tina admitted. “It all seems so fantastic, and yet here we are.” “It’s not over yet,” Enty warned. “ManMan, keep that perimeter watch up. I don’t trust things that go this well.” “It’s not paranoia if they are out to get you,” Joe Pepper agreed. He hefted his borrowed machine gun and checked the ridge above them. “It all looks pretty cl…” The proton discharge took him right in the chest and hurled him back thirty feet. “It is not clear,” announced HuntingJustice DeathMarrow. “Keep everybody moving!” DarkHwk ordered. “I’ll take her!” “In your dreams,” the foil-bikinied mercenary sneered. She hefted another vast cannon onto her ample hip and triggered it at the amulet-powered hero. Although he slid swiftly aside the energy net manoeuvred after him, forcing him into more and more difficult aerial acrobatics. HuntingJustice DeathMarrow calmly focussed her lasersword on him and shot him in the back. “Get them all moving,” Enty commended Tina. “Move. Leave me!” The red cross worker harried the stragglers of the refugee column towards Goldeneyed’s position. Then, without hesitation, she came back to drag Jaimie Bautista across the snow. “We’ve got to help her,” Hatman declared, pulling himself free of Sorceress’s support and hobbling back towards the rear of the line where HuntingJustice DeathMarrow’s soldiers had overwhelmed Enty and Tina. Then the Sentinoids decloaked around Jay and Whitney and hefted their shatter cannons at the duo. A half dozen more sentinoids appeared some way off, each with a fallen member of Finny’s suicide squad chained to its chest. The vanguard of the refugees was halted a mere thirty yards from where Goldeneyed waited. “Oh dear,” HuntingJustice DeathMarrow called to the teleporting legionnaire. “So near and yet so far. It seems like I win. I have your friends and the people you were trying to save. You have the choice of escaping without them, in which case I will execute them one by one, starting with this new-born wretch here, or surrendering to me and begging for my mercy.” “The mission’s lost,” Whitney warned. “She’s going to kill us all anyway! Get out of here! Go!” Huntigjustice Deathmarrow rendered her insensate with a backhanded blow with the flat of her blade. Goldeneyed made his decision. “Alright,” he conceded. “I surrender.” HuntingJustice DeathMarrow was smart enough to wait for him to come to her, away from the zone where he could have teleported her back to the Dreary Dimension with him. There went plan A. He just wished there was a plan B. “You know those villains who capture the heroes, tie them up, explain their plans to them, and leave them in fiendish death traps, thereby giving them an opportunity to escape and turn the tables?” the commander of the forces of occupation asked G-Eyed. “Yeah. So?” DeathMarrow smiled. “I’m not one of them.,” she told him. She turned to her troops. “Kill them all. Now.” Next episode: Hey, I know I said this was the penultimate one, but it wasn’t, okay. The next one is penultimate and the one after is most definitely ultimate, as I hope you’ll agree. Next time we get to see what was going on with the rest of the gang while this group of heroes was getting massacred, why Lisa has a ginger cat, how spiffy and Troia take on the Parody Master, the fate of Avatar, the fate of Valeria, Visionary’s Masters of Evil vs the heroic Proctology and also some serious opposition, the choice of the Dark Chronicler, and the thing that really, really, annoys the Hooded Hood. Be there. The Hooded Hood |
| Untold Tales of the Lair Legion: The Darkness and the Dawn, or Lots of Quiet, Charactery Bits and One Bloody Massacre (The Hooded Hood) (14-Jan-2000 12:06:17) |
Click here to look at Yo's Platypus Correspondence
|
Copyright © Looksmart, Ltd. 1997-1999.
All rights reserved.