Posted by The Hooded Hood goes cosmic in this far-ranging tale of men against gods and Celestians, women against satyrs and centaurs, and one little girl who grew up to marry a prince. on June 01, 2001 at 02:52:46:
#77: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion Interdimensional Tour: Deicide, Genocide, Suicide, and Sushi
Donar Oldmanson,
hemigod of thunder, master of Mjalcolm the enchanted
baseball-bat-with-a-nail-in-it, Prince of Ausgard, burst out of the burning
Trojan horse and pounded into the lemon-crested titans that had just set fire to
it. “Ho, felons! Let the smiting beginneth for the nonce! Let the heavens cry
war as the son of the All-Pappy doth rend yon Olympian malefactors in their very
halls! Let bards tell of this day when Degenerus and all his cowardly ilk didst
receive a right good seeing to most verily! So mote it be!” “This is nice,” Sorceress admitted, looking at the dawn rising over the
distant rolling hills of Nippon. “This might be my favourite bit of the tour so
far.” Degenerus sat on his throne, allowed a somewhat plump nymph to feed him a
couple of grapes, and admired the golden statue of Troia which until a short
while ago had been Troia. “Sparkly, isn’t she?” he asked the knot of satyrs and
centaurs who were helping him polish off a seventeen course snack. It was not the easiest of escapes. The Dark Knight was suspended from a cats’
cradle of techno-organic wires actually within one of the vast Celestian Space
Robots that maintained the functioning of the Parodyverse. In their own way
these unfathomable, inexorable beings were the equal of any power in the cosmos.
They could delete whole planets, in defiance of gods and more than gods. They
had exiled whole pantheons that had displeased them. “At least we’re through the golden gates,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! noted as the
remains of the wooden horse crackled in the courtyard of the gods. “Where do we
go now?” Valeria was not asleep. She lay beside Derek Foreman and watched his
breathing, watched his face trying to remember every detail of the man she now
slept with – just slept with, no euphemism there, Rick was a perfect gentleman
even though it was clear he had to use iron self-restraint and she wouldn’t have
minded if that self restraint failed. She wanted to keep the picture of Rick in
her mind. “We have a misunderstanding here,” Degenerus explained to his satyrs and
centaurs. “You see, when I said drag the Amazon before me in shackles so that I
can work my will upon her, I rather meant put chains on her and bend her over my
footstool. Not get yourselves gutted by a warspear, have your privates sliced
off, slip on your own entrails, and allow the wench to escape.” The first thing the Dark Knight tasted was his own blood. He winced in pain
as he felt the imperfectly knitted bones and tendons of his reconstructed body.
Separated inside the Celestian from the usual energies of the Chronicler of
Stories who had ordained his curse, he had obviously burned up all his own
personal reserves. He regarded the emaciated flesh on his arm and estimated that
he probably weighed around a hundred pounds or so right now. “Okay, Zeus,” Troia called, dropping though the hole she’d just made in the
roof of the sky-god’s temple, “I want to appeal a ruling.” Scott Brunsen concentrated, forming the quasi-solid plasma fields which were
his gift, the heritage of the protector of the Parodyverse. He knew that any
overt act of insurrection against the Celestian would be futile, that within
this mighty machine were energies sufficient to overcome his energy powers a
thousand times over. Therefore he worked very carefully and slowly, ignoring the
proximity of scanners and scalpels which were assessing the best methods of
slicing him up for diagnostic purposes. “So what the heck happened to the Pantheon?” CrazySugarFreakBoy! demanded.
“And why haven’t we heard any of this?” The Harpies caught up with Troia outside the Temple of Small Kitchen
Implements and started attacking immediately. It took Amazing Guy thirteen hours to navigate his way to Dark Knight, and by
then the Protector of the Parodyverse was maintaining no less than three
thousand energy constructs to baffle the Celestian. He was cringing with
exhaustion and concentration when he found DK, but even then he could see he was
in better shape than the half-formed Dark Knight. “Hey, you guys in the woolly trousers. Nice tails!” CSFB! mocked as he
bounced in amongst the satyrs. “Not too good at moving too fast with those
backward jointed legs, of course, but when you’re tangled in silly string who
cares?” “You really are a very stupid hemigod,” Degenerus told Donar as he hammered
the Ausgardian through the Temple of Small Geese. “In Zeus’ absence I have
borrowed his weapons and tools. I have enough power to pulp you.” “We’re alive?” Even the Dark Knight sounded surprised. “I’m really, really touched that you guys came all this way to save me,”
Troia admitted. “Not that I really needed saving, tee-hee. I could have handled
myself.” Next issue: It’s Japan, so we have to have really big monsters
stomping buildings, right? Right. And we want to know what happens to Lisette,
right? Well, G-Eyed does anyway. And Exile, what’s the story there? And just
what is that Peter von Doom guy up to this time? Featuring a moonlit stroll for
Ziles and Finny, the return of the Dark Knight (or what’s left of him), the
identity of the mysterious stowaway, breakfast at the Wick household, and guest
appearances from a couple of characters we haven’t really featured recently it
should be worth checking back here to see what’s happening next week.
The Hooded Hood's
Homepage of Doom
“Yo was thinking
that cute Donar was saying that in rescuing even-cuter Troia from uncute Greek
God of Debauchery Degenerus that we had to be using stealth so as not to be
starting a godswar between Olympus and Ausgard,” Yo noted from inside the
smouldering wooden horse.
“Yeah. He said something like that, didn’t he?”
CSFB! answered absently, but in his mind he was comparing the whole episode to
the classic Avengers War of the Gods story arc. “Hey, wait up. Leave some
lemon-crested titans for me, big guy!”
“Oh dear,” Yo worried. S/he was not
used to being the responsible one. “This would never have been happening if we
had used a wooden bunny to be sneaking in with.”
“It is pretty,” Hatman admitted. “It was nice of Sydney St Sylavin to
allow us to recuperate at her Tokyo dojo or whatever it is. But we need to get
back to business. We still have no word from Donar and company about Troia,
we’ve lost touch with the Dark Knight, G-Eyed still hasn’t checked in, there’s
that promise to keep to Elsqueevio that we had to make, and then there’s the
matter of our… stowaway.”
Jaz Boaz stalked off to check on the latest
communications. Whitney Darkness sighed and enjoyed the rest of the sunrise.
The satyrs
and centaurs agreed. After all, Degenerus was buying the drink and had laid on
the nymphs.
“But I think she would be more fun as flesh and blood, don’t
you?”
The satyrs and centaurs agreed again. Degenerus could always think of
the most amusing games to play with captured virgins.
“So we’re agreed.
Hormonia my dear, go and fetch my toybox. Euthanasia, I’ll need the good chains.
This one is quite strong. Oh, and Lavatoria, I think perhaps a draught of love
potion would be amusing for our little Amazon. Go fetch me some.” He would have
sent Absentia, but she was missing as usual.
The Dark Knight was
their prisoner, captured as he investigated mysterious events upon Earth’s moon,
and he was scheduled for dissection. That he had been set up was currently an
irrelevance. Someone had been clever enough to realise that part of the Dark
Knight’s curse was to rise from the dead whenever he died, each time just a
little less human than before, and to correctly calculate an ending from which
he could not return.
Across the dissection chamber hung Scott Brunsen,
Amazing Guy, designated Protector of the Parodyverse by the cosmic being called
Eggo. Amazing Guy’s patron could not help him now. Like DK himself, AG was
separated from the special powers he usually displayed.
“Damn,” the Dark
Knight spat. “Alright, Amazing Guy. There is only one way we’re going to get out
of here, and that’s dead. I’m voice-control setting the self-destruct blast on
the thermite I’m carrying at a quarter of a megaton but with a localised blast
field so it shouldn’t do more than scorch your eyebrows.”
“What do you mean?”
AG demanded. “You can’t throw that stuff. You’re trussed up like a hog.”
“I
don’t intend to throw it,” the urban legend answered. “Code 39177-34422.
Password: Betrayal. Authorisation: Whore-hopper. Immediate detonation.
Commence.”
The subsequent blast sent bits of Dark Knight flying in all
directions and caught the attention of the Celestian itself.
“Now?” Donar growled. “Now we find Zeus and deliver our challenge to
mortal combat with Degenerus.”
“Zeus? Zeus isn’t available right now,”
Elsqueevio, God of Small Waters confessed, rising up from a puddle left by a
very frightened lemon-crested titan.
“Cute Elsqueevio. Yo is to be being glad
to see you.”
“Well I’m not glad to see you people. How dare you invade sacred
Olympus? You know what this will do to the pact, Donar.”
“Fie upon the pact.
Vile Degenerus, whom you did but lately assisteth us in thwarting, hath carried
off the fair Troia to inflict his obscene revels upon, and we art here to
smiteth his ass.”
“Yeah. What the Ausgardian said,” added CSFB! “Plus, every
real hero has to challenge the gods sometime. Um, you don’t happen to have a
match on you do you?”
“Promethius already brought fire to mortals,”
Elsqueevio scowled, “and I personally gifted them with those small damp patches
that appear wherever babies are found. Now look, I’m sorry about Troia, but
Donar at least should know how it is with deities and their pretty female
worshippers. It’s traditional.”
“Not just female ones, if all the Greek
legends can be believed,” CSFB! smirked “*cough* Ganymede *cough*”
“Yo is not
interested in whether is traditional. Yo is interested in that it is to being
wrong. So we are here to rescue cute-Troia, whatever you are saying.”
“You
would risk interpantheon war just for one girl?” the God of Small Waters
demanded.
“Verily. What art the point of having gods if we doth not cherish
and care for the weak and helpless, or if we betray the trust of those who
trusteth us?”
“Damn,” Elsqueevio sighed. “An appeal to logic and ethics.
That’s fighting dirty. Look, I’ll ask you one last time, please go home now.
I’ll see what I can do for Troia myself, okay?”
“No deal,” Dreamcatcher
Foxglove answered. “We came for Troia. We’re not leaving without her. Take us to
Zeus or whoever’s in charge.”
“Ah,” Elsqueevio winced. “Well that’s a bit
awkward, you see…”
Too soon the sickly green light of the dimensional portal opened,
washing the room with an eerie glow.
Half a dozen robed priests stepped
through the gateway, followed by a half dozen knights, and finally a warrior in
bright golden armour. This tall, handsome man lifted off his helmet to show a
perfect face with long curly blonde locks. “My lady,” he bowed. “I am Prince
Maggador. We have journeyed far to rescue you.”
“Of course,” Valeria
swallowed. “I received the summons. I am ready to go.”
“This shame will be
forgotten in your new life,” Prince Maggador promised.
Valeria realised that
she was in a somewhat compromising situation. “Exile has been a kind and good
master,” she answered. “I remain a candidate of destiny, and a Keeper of the
Hidden Chalice.”
“Really?” the Prince asked slightly sceptically, glancing at
the priests. “Well, that can be determined later. If you are then we have a
better hope than we thought, for we need not wait a generation for your daughter
to come of age. Indeed, we may not have a generation’s time to
wait.”
“Really,” Valeria replied. “I declare that I, Valeria, Lady of
Shalandalor, First Daughter of Regis Trantor of Carfax and Shalandalor and Dame
Sontergard of Fellwall and the Low Marshes, am initiate and Keeper of the Secret
of the Hidden Chalice, and remain a maiden suitable for the sacrifice of
destiny. You know I could not make such a vow if it was not true.”
“It is
so,” agreed one of the clergy. “As the prophecies say. She has been gone nigh a
thousand years but she is as it is told in the writings of the Wise One.”
“A
thousand years,” the slave-girl gasped. “So long?”
“Then come, my lady,”
Prince Maggador urged, taking Valeria by the hand and leading her from Exile’s
bed towards the dimensional portal. “All of the Dreary Dimension awaits your
return, and dread peril threatens our existence. It is the time of prophesy. You
are needed.” He turned to the priests. “Convey my bride safely,” he commanded
them as they led Valeria through the doorway to what had once been her
home.
Valeria did not look back.
When only Prince Maggadon remained in the
green-tinted bedroom he glared down at Exile with a cold contempt and placed a
power-restrainer on Derek Foreman’s forehead. “Wake up!” he demanded, with a
kick.
Derek was roused from his sleep as he tumbled out of bed. “Wha?” he
mumbled.
“Get up, pissant,” Prince Maggadon commanded. “I bring vengeance for
your enslavement and shaming of the Lady of Shandalor. I have long dreamed of
the day when I would avenge her dishonour upon thee, recreant caitiff.”
“Val?
Where is she? What have you done with her?”
Exile discovered too late that
his energy-manipulating powers were suppressed. Maggadon illustrated this by
pounding a mail-clad fist into Exile’s midriff, then another into his
chin.
“I shall beat you to within an inch of your life,” the Prince promised.
“But I am a merciful man and will allow you to escape death, albeit barely. Reap
now the reward for your evil.”
Exile got in a couple of good punches but he
was up against a superbly-trained combatant in golden plate armour. He didn’t
stand a chance.
Prince Magaddon kept on hitting him even after Exile had lost
consciousness.
The surviving
centaurs and satyrs apologised and hastily scooped their innards up.
“Oh
well,” the God of Debauchery cheered himself. “I suppose a little hunt will
sharpen the appetite. Girls, you stay here and heat up the clamps. I think it’s
time for a little Amazon-hunting.” He picked up his hunting horn, a nice
metal-flecked crop, and the elixir of desire. “Tally ho.”
Being assumed
dead by the Space Robot’s automated systems he had not been restrained. The
drones had meticulously gathered the charred parts of him and pieced them
together as best they could for later analysis, as he had known they would.
Without that macabre jigsaw assembly he could never have pulled off a
resurrection. “Half a resurrection,” he jested to himself, grimly.
DK’s
clothing and equipment were mere shreds, but the Dark Knight pulled himself
painfully from his storage slab and dragged his bleeding body to one of the
techno-ganglia nodes of the Space Robot itself. It took too long to make his
fingers respond to the task, too long to cannibalise parts of his captor to
improvise the tools he needed. He blacked out at least three times. He had to
recalculate the encryption protocols in the Celestian’s subsystems again and
again. Finally he was able to insinuate but one minor command into the infinite
array of unfathomable protocols that drove the vast engine of destiny.
A
quarter mile away, as the scalpels shimmered down towards Amazing Guy, the hero
felt his powers return to him.
The hall was empty
and dusty.
“Er, Zeus? Hello?”
“’Es not here,” a cleaner told her.
Troia swung her spear round to a mop-wielding overweight dryad. “What do you
mean, he’s not here?” she demanded.
The fat dryad pointed her dripping mop at
the empty throne. “You know. Gone. Absent. Unpresent. Elsewhere. Not here.
They’re all missing, have been for ages.”
“All?” the Amazon administrator
puzzled. “You mean all the gods?”
“All the famous ones at any rate,” the
cleaning dryad sniffed. “Hera, Apollo, Dionysius, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, all
that bunch. Just vanished one day. Didn’t even cancel the ambrosia.”
“The
major Greek gods are missing? How long?”
“I dunno, I just do the floors,” the
dryan answered. “A few hundred years or so, I suppose. Most of the lesser gods
disappeared around the same time. A few of them went off to get jobs on Earth.
Place has been pretty quiet since then.”
“Well that’s your problem,” Troia
215 answered. “I want to know who’s in charge now. I have a
complaint.”
“Now?” the fat dryad shrugged. “I suppose that would be
Degenerus. He’s the one who holds Zeus’ weaponry and stuff.”
“Oh,” the Amazon
noted. “Crap.”
A molecule-thick plasma field
intervened in the locking mechanism holding AG’s right wrist. As the circuit was
broken the manacle flicked open.
The first of the scalpels shimmered down and
essayed a minor cut on his calf, deftly flicking out a small nugget of flesh for
analysis.
AG focussed his cosmic awareness, carefully creating a conductive
plasma link to continue sending the right signals about his captivity to the
central processor. He set to work on the other restraints. Each one required
careful concentration. By the time he was free he was maintaining over a
thousand micron-thick energy fields to maintain the illusion of still being
restrained.
“Right,” AG gasped. “I’ve got to find DK.” Already his cosmic
senses had alerted him to how his powers had been released. He concentrated for
a while, trying to make sense of the bizarre pan-dimensional architecture within
the Celestian. Finally he worked out a route he could comprehend and began to
pick his way though the interior of the cosmic machine.
Meanwhile a
self-diagnostic cycle within the Space Robot sensed an unaccountable glitch and
began to make investigations.
“A piece of prime psychic real estate
like Olympus unclaimed and undefended?” Donar answered. “I wouldst have kept it
quiet also.”
“Exactly,” Elsqueevio agreed. “And with pantheism going out of
fashion anyway it just sort of looked as though we were retiring gracefully. We
didn’t have enough belief in us left to refashion ourselves again anyway. We had
enough trouble remodelling for the Romans. Jupiter my ass.”
“Yo is wondering
why cute Elsqueevio did not seek help from other pantheons?”
“What other
pantheons?” the God of Small Waters protested. “The Aztec psychic plane’s
completely gone. The Oriental Celestial bureaucracy has a closed for
redecorating sign up. The Egyptians have mostly vanished. The Native Americans
were always a bugger to find anyway”
“You don’t think that the same thing
might have happened to all of them, do you?” CSFB! worried. “You don’t think
somebody’s kidnapping all the major pantheons?”
“The realm of Ausgard doth
remain untouched,” Donar assured them.
“But Ausgard’s a special case, isn’t
it?” Elsqueevio noted. “Ausgard went to war with the Space Robots once and got…
transported down under. It remains exiled anyway, and anybody messing with it
might attract some Celestian attention they didn’t want.”
“And also a right
good kicking from Donar,” Donar added.
“Yo thinks this is to be a most
worrying mystery, but is also thinking that time is to be running out for cute
Troia.”
“Look, you didn’t want us saving her from Degenerus ‘cause we might
find out your secret,” Dream suggested to Elsqueevio. “But now we know, so
there’s no reason we can’t go and let Donar go and uh, Donar Degenerus, is
there?”
“I suppose not,” the God of Small Waters acknowledged. He watched the
three heroes charge off in the direction he pointed them in towards Degenerus’
Halls of Revelry. “I just can’t let any of you leave afterwards,” he noted
sadly.
“Who does your hair dear? It
looks like a rat’s nest.”
“Getting a little chubby around the thighs, aren’t
we?”
“Never mind dear, some men like plenty to get hold of.”
Troia
demonstrated some Amazon spear-throwing techniques.
“Now that wasn’t too
smart, throwing away your only weapon, was it?” Degenerus asked, emerging from
behind an ionic column. Centaurs and satyrs fanned out to surround the besieged
girl.
Troia had to privately admit that it wasn’t. “Just keep your distance,
slimegod. I know now that you’ve only got this powerful because there’s no big
gods to stop you, and that you’d never have been able to stake a claim on me if
all the proper deities hadn’t just vanished.”
“And you should also know, my
dear, that you are all alone in the city of the gods, at the somewhat-lacking
mercy or me and my followers here, and that we are going to really, really enjoy
having you.”
Troia prepared to sell her honour dearly. She had one last card
to play. “My father is the Hooded Hood,” she warned.
“Of course he is,”
Degenerus smirked. “It was he who suggested I should pay you a
visit.”
“What?”
“He said that he would not object to a little hemigod in
the family. So I’m going to introduce you to my little hemigod.”
“My father
gave me to you?”
“In as many words.”
“Ah,” breathed Troia. “What were his
words. His exact words?”
“I believe he said ‘A hemigod hybrid would be a most
acceptable and useful addition to the family. After suitable preparation has
been done, of course.’”
“Oh boy. You mean like three tests of worthiness,
like ManMan had to do?”
Degenerus was puzzled. “I have not heard anything of
three tests.”
“Yesssss,” Troia noted. “But I don’t think the tests were for
you. Actually, I think you were the first test.”
A bolt of lightning pounded
down from a clear blue sky and scattered the ring of Degenerus’
followers.
“Ho, Degenerus, slime-filth offspring of vomit and calumny!” Donar
shouted from above. “Face now the wrath of the Oldmanson, and prepareth to take
thy teeth home in a bag!”
“I think it’s his test,” Troia 215 explained
maliciously.
“Aw crap, man,” AG gasped.
“What happened to you?”
“I died.” DK snapped. “Again. But at least I didn’t
die by Celestian dissection, which would have been a damned site more difficult
to shake off. As it is I don’t know how many more times I can pull this trick.”
He wiped away the blood from his mouth as he spoke.
“How do we get out of
here then?”
DK indicated the untidy knot of hardwiring he had inflicted on
the Space Robot control node. “The internal systems are looking for this,” he
answered. “It’s only a matter of time before they find it. I suggest we help
them.”
“What? I don’t understand,” AG admitted.
“We can’t possibly breach
the outer shell of this thing. Only one power I know of could, the Celestian
itself. So we use that power. See that conduit over there?”
“The one it hurts
to look at?”
“It’s a main power artery. If you can channel that power through
a plasma creation into the wall over there just as the diagnostic repair
subroutines arrive to investigate this lash up I’ve concocted we should be able
to pierce the hull and get blown out into space.”
“Won’t all that energy
searing through my construct sort of, um, fry my brain?” AG
worried.
“Probably,” DK answered. “It’s all a matter of willpower. Either
you’ve got it or you haven’t.”
“Right,” Scott Brunsen determined. “Well then
let’s find out.”
“I’m initiating a clumsy adjustment that should alert the
diagnostics… ah, here they come.”
“I’m short-circuiting the most powerful
thing in the Parodyverse. Here
goe…aaaaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The explosion blew a hole in
the side of the Celestian’s torso and shot the two battered heroes out into the
void of space.
“Yo is thinking that uncute horsies need to be tamed,” the pure
thought being fighting alongside Dreamcatcher Foxglove suggested. “Yo is
thinking that Yo knows how to be taming you. Ride ‘em cowboy. Yippie-I-yay! Hi
ho silvering!”
“The problem with charges with those stubby little horns is
when the hero jumps out of the way and you find he was standing in front of a
stone column... Oops. Well, nobody wanted that temple anyway,
probably.”
“What do you be meaning that horses cannot be taught to sit? Yo is
to be teaching this centaur very well.”
“Who’s carrying the passion potion?
Oh, I’ve just smashed the container with my yo-yo, sorry about that. Wow, I bet
the Greeks had a word for what eight centaurs and eleven satyrs do when they’re
doused in love waters. I’d better ask Elsqueevio.”
“Yo is thinking that now
is the time to be leaving, cute CSFB! Yo is not wanting to know what is to be
going on down there next. Let us to be seeing how cute Donar is proceeding.”
“Talk art
cheap, malefactor,” Donar answered, bouncing Mjalcolm of Zeus’ aegis (and
denting the shield). “Come hither and let me rip thy head off and spitteth down
they neck.”
“Like I’m going to dirty my hands on an unwashed Ausgardian,”
scoffed Degenerus. “You claim to be a thunder-deity? Well Zeus is a sky god.
These are his thunderbolts.” And he loosed a steak of lightning into Donar’s
chest.
“Aaaagh!” shouted Donar as three million volts of electricity coursed
through him setting his hair on end. “Most refreshing.” He gathered the energy
to him and hurled it back at Degenerus. “See what thou thinkest.”
Above, two
competing weather systems met and clashed. Suddenly the whole of Mount Olympus
was wrapped in tempest, with hurricane force winds vying with lightning strikes
to see which could cause the most damage.
Degenerus sneered as he saw his
enemy buffeted to the ground only to find himself slammed to the earth a moment
later. He hurled a bag of curses at Donar, and while the hemigod was fending
them off took the opportunity to hit him from behind. “Actually,” the God of
Debauchery grinned, “I have a better idea than just killing you.”
“Ah well,
tis good thou has imagination. I however wilt stick with the basics and merely
rend thee limb from limb.”
“I don’t think so,” Degenerus boasted. “You might
be stronger than me in a big hairy smelly sort of way, but I am the
master of base feelings. And I’m using my power on you now.”
Donar suddenly
clutched his stomach and tried not to fall to his knees.
“Can you feel it,
Ausgardian? I’m loosing within you all your basest emotions, your unfettered
lust, all those dark, secret desires you suppress. I’m dredging up every
perversion, every malicious wish, every dirty little act you have ever wanted to
indulge in.”
Donar writhed in pain.
“Don’t resist it, Donar. You know you
want to surrender to the embrace of debauchery. No limits. No conscience. Merely
endless, cruel gratification.”
“Donar!” Troia cried out, rushing forward. She
stopped as the Oldmanson looked up at her with burning sinister desire. “Uh,
Donar? Big guy?”
“Yes,” Degenerus encouraged. “Now you see what I see in her.
What potential. What amusement. Take her, Donar! Wreak you will upon her. Do as
thou wilt is the whole of the law.”
Donar heeded the words of the god at his
shoulder and stood up. “Do as I wilt,” he agreed, his face twisted into a cruel
mask of his usual good-natured rage.
“Donar, don’t let him do this to you,”
Troia called, suddenly frightened. “C’mon, Donar. Don’t let him win.”
“Do
it,” Degenerus commanded.
“Aye,” agreed Donar. He reached out, grasped
Degenerus’ head in one massive palm, and crushed the god’s skull like an
eggshell. “Do as I wilt,” he repeated with satisfaction.
“Alive,” Amazing
Guy agreed wearily. He was having difficulty maintaining the energy-bubble that
was keeping the last vestiges of breathable atmosphere intact. “I think we’re
somewhere about nine million light years from Earth. I’ve sent out an S.O.S. to
Eggo.”
“Oh wonderful,” scowled the pain-wracked Dark Knight, bleeding gently.
“Rescued by a Living Waffle.”
“I’d really like to see you handling yourself,” CSFB! admitted, but
was quelled by glares from Donar and Troia.
“Yo is pleased that cute-Troia is
to be safe from harm,” Yo beamed. “And that cute-Donar is to be away from nasty
influence of uncute dead Degenerus.”
“He hadst no idea what mine hidden
desires wert,” Donar explained smugly. “Come, let us hie back to the Lair Legion
as make sure that our other missing comrades hast been found.”
“Ah,”
Elsqueevio ah-ed. “About that. You see I’m afraid I can’t let you leave Olympus.
Not now you know our awful secret. I can’t let you leave ever.”
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