Posted by CrazySugarFreakBoy! gives you three guesses at what events inspired this specific story ... on May 12, 2001 at 08:52:37:
Untold Tales of the Lair Legion World Tour Interlude: The Order of Order Makes Its Move
Briefly before the commencement of the Lair Legion’s currently ongoing World Tour ... The Word, leader of the Order of Order, frowned at his wall of ever-changing images, and muttered under his breath. “Damnable woman, always mucking about in affairs that don’t concern her ...” Priestess Pelopia, the Disciple of Logos, cocked an eyebrow at her father’s uncharacteristic display of emotion, and regarded him expectantly, awaiting an explanation. “Sir?” The supervillain identity of Mr. Gideon Book, the President and CEO of Odyssey Opportunities, glanced at his daughter’s demurely curious expression, and smirked as he recalled that he was not alone in the room. “It would seem that Ms. St. Sylvain has once again made the ill-advised decision to promote herself to the status of a player in my game, when she should have recognized her proper place as a pawn.” Priestess Pelopia remembered the name almost instantly, but still checked to confirm that her points of reference were correct. “Sydney St. Sylvain, formerly the ‘superhero’ known as the Fashion Fairy? Of what concern could she be to the implementation of your designs, sir?” The Word pointed to a cluster of screens that was monitoring the interior of the humble family-owned diner known as the Bean & Donut Coffee Bar, located on the edge of Parodiopolis Plaza, in which could be seen the seated forms of both the Fashion Fairy and Meggan Foxxx, a.k.a. Action Figure, the mother and superhero sidekick of Dreamcatcher Kokopelli Foxglove, a.k.a. CrazySugarFreakBoy!, who served Mr. Book as Odyssey Opportunities’ official spokesperson and advertising mascot. “The friendly get-together that you see up there transpired a short while ago. It would appear that Ms. St. Sylvain has struck up something of an acquaintance with Ms. Hastings, as an aftermath of her business visit to the Goofball Gauntlet, when she provided their company with more practical and aesthetically appealing crime-fighting costumes. Should this convivial association progress any further, it will inevitably lead to Ms. Hastings introducing Ms. St. Sylvain to her son ...” Priestess Pelopia’s eyes widened slightly at the moment of her understanding. “You wish to prevent a reenactment of the same sequence of events that interfered with your plans involving Dr. Leonard Day-Vincent, formerly the ‘superhero’ known as the Renaissance Man.” This assertion possessed less of a questioning tone than her previous deduction. The Word narrowed his eyelids and allowed a small frown to crease his features. “Leonard was one of the most brilliant neo-classic thinkers I’ve ever met, and that frivolous, floating little wisp of silly-hearted whimsy incurably corrupted the pristine purity of his near-flawless logic with her sappy, misguided, dime-store romanticism. Mr. Foxglove is already bull-headed enough in his stubborn refusal to acknowledge the uncompromising truths of the real world, without some frustrated former aspiring model and would-be glamour queen eagerly confirming all of his most dangerously deluded notions of so-called ‘heroism’, by volunteering to play a clownishly self-conscious, midlife crisis-suffering Tinkerbell to his hopelessly post-adolescent, pop culture-spawned Peter Pan.” Priestess Pelopia stood ready to receive the instructions that she believed to be forthcoming. “Your will is that this woman be removed from the Idiot’s life.” The Word’s face twisted briefly into a brutal scowl. “My will is that she be erased from existence.” As Priestess Pelopia attempted to conceal her reaction of shock at this open show of displeasure from her father, his flash of unguarded ill temper soon subsided, and he turned to face her, offering her the reassurance of a subtle yet serene smile. “Fortunately, my will is already being done, even as we speak.” Priestess Pelopia blinked quickly in surprise, then connected her father’s remark to a conversation of his that she had happened to overhear, scant scarcely minutes before. “Your extended correspondence with the Hentai Hierophant, the leader of the Thunder Monkey-Worshipping Brotherhood of Ass-Raping Ninjas’ Student Loan Collection Agency ...” The Word granted his daughter a modest, muted chuckle of approval at the accuracy of her assessment. “In her civilian identity as Mara Musashi, the Hentai Hierophant also happens to be the President and CEO of Extensive Enterprises, among whose various subsidiaries lie the Aesthetic Authority line of provocatively put-together crime-fighting costumes. It is precisely this state of affairs that unavoidably places Ms. Musashi in direct competition, both economic and ideological, with Ms. St. Sylvain’s Fashion Fairy Fabrications, which seeks to set a far less sexist and demeaning standard for the average attire available to female ‘superheroes’. Thus, just as the Hentai Hierophant has ample reason to hold a grudge again the Trickster, for all of the criminal activities of her organization that he has hindered, so too would there be little love lost between Mara Musashi and Sydney St. Sylvain, were some unfortunate fate to befall the Fashion Fairy.” Priestess Pelopia nodded curtly, relaying her own comprehension of her father’s plot to him with brisk confidence. “And as with any of your profitable business transactions, you simply arranged all of the proper contacts, provided your clients with all of the necessary resources, and delegated the remainder of your dealings to the appropriate subordinates, to whom you had dictated your assignment of tasks.” The Word shrugged with an almost casual indifference. “Ms. Musashi required no extra incentive to do harm to either her bitter business rival or the indefatigably idealistic young ‘superhero’ whose actions have contributed considerably to her criminal organization’s gradual loss of esteem among its more prestigious peers in the ‘supervillain’ underworld. After she had borne witness to the ... demonstrations, that I’d arranged for her benefit, albeit while taking extensive measures to ensure that she would remain utterly unaware of my influence, she immediately realized the full scope of the chemistry skills wielded by Mark Mandrill, alias the Dadaist Druggist, organizer and supplier of the infamous gatherings known as the Rogues’ Gallery Go-Go Raves, as well as the technological aptitude of the anarchic cyber-terrorist Leah Wasserman, alias the Internet Intellect, and as a perhaps inevitable result of her rather petty motives, she soon came to a relatively predictable conclusion on how best to utilize the pair’s unique talents. Likewise, when one of Ms. Musashi’s consultants on certain matters paranormal informed her that her newly acquired sturdy antique slave chains, that she had happened to obtain in the course of one of any number of her organization’s assorted illegal interactions, were composed of an extremely rare metal known as Inquisition Iron, so called because of the fact that Medieval hunters of supernatural beings often employed such implements of bondage in the capture, torture, imprisonment, and eventual execution of their faerie prey, I doubt the spiteful slattern needed to spend any length of time whatsoever on deciding exactly how she wanted to use the bloody things.” Priestess Pelopia surveyed the multiple viewpoints and perspectives afforded to her by the wall of ever-changing images, the kaleidoscopic lights and sounds of which practically assaulted her senses, as she faithfully recited one of her father’s most oft-lectured lessons, right down to the letter. “Those who would be Icons must not be able to any shelter or solace in the form of a successful romantic relationship, else they might find some source of strength, however seemingly inconsequential, in the ‘love’ that they share with their would-be soul mates, and thus manage to accomplish their mission of awakening in the masses their belief in the irresponsible lie that calls itself ‘hope’.” The Word grinned, not only at the mental discipline his daughter regularly demonstrated through such astonishing feats of total recall, but also because her words had reminded him of his latest meeting with the management and marketing staff of Marvel Entertainment. “If I can persuade a major media corporation to deny their most popular Icon his so-called ‘true love’, against all protests from their own audience of consumers, it should be short work to contrive a manner of permanently preventing a single, daydream-drunk simpleton of a Trickster from uniting with the one woman who might otherwise wind up being his optimism-restoring companion spirit.” Priestess Pelopia permitted herself the indulgence of a miniscule but nonetheless unmistakably smug smirk, as she prepared to benefit from another of her father’s teachings. “And when shall we have an opportunity to see this total deconstruction of the Idiot’s most dearly held hopes and dreams?” The Word gestured sweepingly at the perpetually shifting sands of the wall’s dizzyingly detailed tableau of unfolding scenes. “Soon, my daughter. Quite soon ...” To be continued, in upcoming chapters of Untold Tales of the Lair Legion World Tour.