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WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: Melissa, the living computer virus also known
as Vector, has unleashed her 'Legionnaires' Disease' upon the world,
crippling most of the Legion of Net.Heroes and threatening to destroy the
Internet. A handful of heroes, led by Easily-Discovered Man Lite and Mouse,
have fought back against Vector and her creators -- the Church of the Fourth
Wall and the mysterious Acolyte -- only to see half their number apparently
destroyed (but in reality, time-transported to 1984).
Now, thanks to the timely arrival of the Nodakommandos and the
escape of Gorilla Grad -- who holds the secret to the villains' fiendish
plot -- Tsar Chasm and the Legionnaires have what may be their last chance to
strike back against the evil that threatens to destroy at all -- if they
can survive the peril that awaits them at Legion Headquarters...
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The Legion of Net.Heroes presents
"Birth of a Villain" Chapter 26: "For This We Waited Two Years?"
Plot: Script:
Rob Rogers Rob Rogers
(with a little help
from his friends)
"This can't be happening!" Authorial moaned. "Not here! Not now!
Not when we've come so far!"
"It's true!" Lad gasped. "I've searched headquarters from top to
bottom, and there's not a drop of Mr. Paprika to be had anywhere? Who would
do such a thing?"
"That should be obvious," said Tsar Chasm, his jet-black shades
reflecting the scrolling monitor screens of the LNH's central computer
as he entered the room.
"I wish you'd stop appearing out of nowhere like that," Authorial
said.
"And I wish MTV would go back to showing videos again.
Unfortunately, we're both going to be disappointed. As has Vector, who in
pilfering the Legion's soft-drink supplies has provided us with the means to
defeat her 'Legionnaire's Disease' once and for all!"
Lad and Authorial applauded.
"I haven't even told you what we're going to do," Tsar Chasm said.
"But you were so dramatic!" Lad said. "You know who would be the
perfect person to play him in a movie? Kelsey Grammer."
"Kelsey Grammer is too old," Authorial said. "Kenneth Branaugh,
maybe."
"Wes Bentley?"
"ENOUGH!" Tsar Chasm thundered. "Haven't you ever wondered why
you're still sitting here flapping your foolish jaws, while the rest of
the world's heroes are struck powerless by this 'Legionnaire's Disease?' "
Lad and Authorial looked at each other.
"Overpowering sex appeal?" they asked in unison.
Tsar Chasm sighed.
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"Do you think the Legion's going to mind us going through their
flight.thingees like this?" Chinese Guy asked. "I mean, I've priced these
things on eBay before, and they're expensive."
"Look at it this way," Insomnia Lad said. "If we win, we'll have
saved the universe, in which case they'll have a huge ceremony in the
ready room in which Sleeps-With-Anything-Alive-Lass will drape medals
around our necks. If we don't, everyone else in the Legion will remain in
a coma until the world as they know it disintegrates around them. So, we
really can't lose."
"Hey guys," said DeadHead Man, materializing beside them in the
crew compartment and taking several years off the life of both heroes.
"I'm worried about Writer's Block Woman."
"And I'm worried about the condition of my heart," Insomnia Lad said.
"Don't they give you some kind of etiquette book when you pass on to the
next world -- you know, when and how you're supposed to terrify the living?"
"What's wrong with Writer's Block Woman?" Chinese Guy whispered.
Outside, the last wisps of cloud drifted away as the flight.thingee swooped
low over the ocean.
"She hasn't said anything since the Vectorbot disintegrated Mouse and
the others," DeadHead Man said. "I've never seen her like this before.
Granted, I've known her for less than 24 hours, but it still seems out of
character."
"No curse is more terrible than to outlive one's children,"
Chinese Guy whispered, looking at the now-empty place on his shoulder.
"Hopefully, we will be able to overcome her grief once we arrive at...
where is it we're going, again?"
"The Roq, headquarters of Khe Seraq I, most dangerous man in the
world," Insomnia Lad said. Shadows lengthened and the sky outside the
flight.thingee's portholes took on grey overtones.
"If he's so powerful and dangerous, how'd we know where to find him?"
DeadHead Man asked.
"Most of the world's law-enforcement agencies have a general idea
where The Roq is located," Insomnia Lad said, as the flight.thingee
shuddered slightly. "It's just that no one's ever had anything good to say
about it, inasmuch as no one who's ever been there has managed to come
back."
"Why is that?" Chinese Guy asked, as the "Fasten Seat Belt" sign
blinked on above their heads.
"I can never remember," Insomnia Lad said, as the floor beneath them
pitched and weapons, medical supplies and communications equipment
wrenched loose from their fastenings and begin rolling about the
compartment. "Oh, wait. It's because the controls on their vehicles
suddenly go dead, and they end up sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
That's it."
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"Running-dog tool of capitalist imperialist child-killing swine!"
screamed Boris 'The Hammer' Ivanyoutovanmeyovich, each bristle of his
six-o-clock shadow standing at attention as he leveled his mystic glowing
hammer at Twaeila Brock.
"Foolish pig-dog cog in a socio-fascist regime machine!" Twaeila
shouted back, preparing to block his blow with a pair of baby blue felt-
covered ankle weights, the only weapons available to her since their forced
trip through time had transformed herself and her companions into
stereotypical 1980s caricatures.
"Decadent scum!" Ivanyoutovan...er, Boris barked.
"Toadying puppet!" Brock bellowed. "Ankle-chewing simp who wouldn't
know the right way to load a Kalishnokov if the lives of the people's state
depended upon it!"
"Diabolical gutter-sow...You know how is to fire Kalishnikov?"
Boris asked.
<<I was weaned on them,>> Twaeila replied, in perfect Russian.
<<I've spent my life fighting against the bloated symbols of capitalist
greed..on battlefields that made Stalingrad look like the Westminster
Dog Show. I learned the importance of picking my targets. And this isn't
the right one.>>
<<My grandfather died at Stalingrad,>> Boris said, lowering his
hammer while keeping Twaeila locked in his gaze. <<I would like to know
more of this battlefield.>>
Across the street, in the shadow of the Viacom building and the roar
of a terrified crowd, Mouse fired a roundhouse kick that caught Natasha
'The Sickle' Yuvantokomova square in the solar plexus.
Though successful, Mouse was exhausted. Her efforts so far had been
hampered by the fishnet stockings, heavy 'Boy Toy' belt buckle, and stiletto
heels she'd been forced to wear as part of her faux-Madonna costume, and
by the shouts of "yowza!" and "shake your money maker" coming from Easily-
Discovered Man Lite, who watched the catfight with undisguised glee.
"I do not understand this 'shake it like you mean it,' " Natasha
gasped, rising to her feet and igniting her laser scythe. "Am I not already
wielding my weapon as though I am meaning it?"
"From where I'm sitting, you are," Lite said. "Let me hear those
balalaikas ringing out! Come and keep this comrade warm!"
"Your friend, he is very strange," Natasha said, shaking her head
and firing an energy bolt at Mouse.
"You don't know the half of it," Mouse said, dodging the blast.
"Lite, I realize it would be impossible for you to be helpful, but could you
at least consider staying out of the way?"
"But I am being helpful," Lite said. "I've helped you keep Natasha
distracted while Coward Lad put our plan into action. Hit it, Cow-boy!"
Mouse looked up in time to see a section of the Viacom building
explode, sending a shower of bricks, mortar, and powdered glass raining
down upon Natasha. As the smoke cleared, and the ringing in her ears began,
she saw a startled-looking Coward Lad standing in the now partially-
destroyed MTV studios, holding an electric guitar in his hand.
"Whoa!" Coward Lad said. "Those were some big speakers!"
"Natasha!" Boris gasped. "You tried to pull the fast one on me,"
he cried, backhanding Twaeila Brock. "Now we set off the bomb and destroy
you, hostage Stomper, and Times Square all at same time!"
"Please tell me this is part of your plan," Mouse said, grabbing
Lite by the pastel lapels of his blazer.
"Of course," Lite said, "assuming that our ace-in-the-hole, Lenny
the Squirrel, followed through on the part where he sneaks up behind
Boris and makes off with the detonator."
"You mean the ace-in-the-hole who's over behind the police barricade
right now, doing pirouettes for peanuts?" Mouse asked.
"Yes," Lite said, gritting his teeth. "That ace-hole."
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"Twaeila, Chinese Guy, Lenny, Gorilla Grad, and DeadHead Man weren't
affected by Legionnaire's Disease because they are respectively from other
universes, other species, or other metabolic states," Tsar Chasm explained.
"And both Writer's Block Woman and Invisible-Intangible-Inaudible Lass have
powers that seem to block its effects, as well as protecting the others
around them."
"Okay," Lad said, "but that doesn't explain how Easily-Discovered
Man Lite, Insomnia Lad, Narcoleptic Lad" -- he glanced at the sleeping form
draped over one of the monitor stations -- "or the rest of us have so far
managed to avoid her spell."
"Doesn't it?" Tsar Chasm smiled. "Surely you recognized that the
powers of both Insomnia Lad and Narcoleptic Lad depend on freakish imbalances
in the supply of serotonin that reaches their brain."
"Yes" "Of course" "First thing I thought of," both brothers said.
"And," Tsar Chasm continued, "although no one knows for sure what
the ingredients in Mr. Paprika are, the surgeon general's warning that's
been on the side of the can since 1984 mentions that it can have unexpected
effects in the serotonin levels of some users. It's well known that nobody
in the Legion of Net.Heroes drinks more Mr. Paprika than Easily-Discovered
Man Lite. Actually," Tsar Chasm said, rubbing his chin, "that explains
an awful lot."
"Hey," Lad said. "And Authorial and I were drinking Mr. Paprikas
right before we ran into Vector at Planet Kirby. At least I was. Authorial
had just started his..."
"...which explains how Vector was able to take over my body."
Authorial sighed. "If only she'd done more with it."
"We can look into that later," Tsar Chasm began.
"Really?"
"No," Tsar Chasm said. "Right now, it's vitally important that we
prevent the forces controlling Vector from achieving their goal. Gorilla
Grad is already synthesizing a formula that may bring the rest of the Legion
out of their slumbers. I've been trying to contact Writer's Block Woman
and the others, but for some reason, I haven't been able to get through to
them. Which means the two of you..."
"And me," said Narcoleptic Lad, yawning and rising to his feet.
"...are going to have to get ready to begin negotiations. There
isn't much time."
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What would Teddy do?
The thought buzzed like an angry gnat at the fringes of President
William Howard Taft's consciousness as his arms, devoid of feeling, tore
at the walls outside the Cathedral of Hate and fended off the attacks
of the blue-robed Church of the Fourth Wall guardsmen as they struggled
to defend their fortress. He blinked. Except for the constant commands
to DESTROY, DESTROY and KILL ALL WHO OPPOSE YOU, his mind had been a blessed
blank slate during the few hours of his undead existence, and the
intrusion of the thought rankled him far more than the useless gobbets of
Greek fire launched at him by the hapless defenders.
Go away, Taft thought, and bellowed: bellowing always made him feel
better, and seeing the horrified expressions on the faces of the churchmen
brought a warm glow to his decomposing heart. And yet the thought would not
go away, no matter how much smashing and bellowing and destroying he did
to quiet it: the notion that, much as he enjoyed it, THIS IS NOT WHAT
TEDDY WOULD DO.
After all that, it was a positive relief when the Cabbage Wielding
Angel of Death erupted from an unholy chapel and began flinging fireballs
at him. Teddy, at least, knew when to fight, he thought.
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"What do you mean, you've reached an agreement?" the Acolyte said,
shouting to make himself heard over the sounds of the battle outside and the
heavy synth-bass beat of Taft's theme music.
"The Nodakommandos and the Church," Father Brown explained, his
thin grey lips curving upward in a smile. "Their goal is to bring the
Author David Henry to this universe. Our goal has always been to preserve
our own world against the interference of other universes by allowing only
One True Author to communicate with us. It matters not to us which author
that may be. We have reached an understanding."
"David HENRY?" the Acolyte gasped. "But...but...surely you can't
imagine that his work in any way approaches that of Dva..."
"Your usefulness to us is at an end," Father Brown said, gesturing
to two deacons who wore the gold robes of the Church's Inner Sanctum.
"With the Nodakommandos keeping our base here secure, the Vectors pressing
our fight against those...heroes...who remain, and the Angel set to
eliminate Taft, we can prepare for the final phase of our operation."
"Perhaps," said the Acolyte, as the golden deacons raised their
hands, filling the room with sweet-smelling incense. "But you've forgotten
one thing."
"What's that?" Father Brown asked. The deacons lowered their arms.
"I'm not sure," the Acolyte said, taking the opportunity to bolt for
one of the chamber doors. "But I'm sure I'll think of something."
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"Okay," Tsar Chasm said, his forehead creased with frustration.
"We'll try this one more time. Picture the whole of creation as a series of
ice cube trays."
"I thought you said creation was like a film strip, with each
window on the strip representing a different universe at a unique point in
time," Authorial said.
"And so it is," Tsar Chasm said, "except the fabric of each of those
universes isn't solid, like a film strip. It's fluid; it shifts, like the
water in an ice cube tray."
"Except that it's not frozen," Lad said. "So, it's more like a
water cube tray."
"Okay," Tsar Chasm said. "You and I perceive the world in three
dimensions; we perceive time as moving forward. That is a result of the
limitations of our perspective; in reality, each universe has many
dimensions, and time is directionless."
"Good Lord," Narcoleptic Lad said. "I've woken up in a Michael
Crichton novel. I hate when that happens."
"We see things -- sense things -- happening to us in this universe,
in the present," Tsar Chasm said. "But in reality, our universe is
constantly interacting with other universes, sending small ripples throughout
its fabric. That's part of the natural order of things."
"But not according to the Church of the Fourth Wall," Authorial said.
"No," Tsar Chasm said. "They believe any interference between this
universe and others is an abomination. They have three goals: to strengthen
the barrier, or Fourth Wall, between this and other universes; to eliminate
all interaction between this and other universes forever; and to draw a
Cosmic Author into this reality, so that he or she can rewrite it into what
they imagine would be a paradise. That's why they allied themselves with
wReamicus Maximus, Acolyte of Dvandom; he's been trying to do exactly that
for years."
"Waitaminute," Lad said. "What's this about 'eliminating interaction
between this and other universes?' How can they do that...unless they
destroy all of the other universes? Is that why they stole Dr. Stomper's
files...to create that..."
"Interdimensional teleportation device. Yes," Tsar Chasm said.
"That is exactly what they are going to do."
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IS THE UNIVERSE REALLY IN JEOPARDY?
WILL ONE DAVE OR ANOTHER BE SUCKED INTO THE LOONIVERSE?
WHAT IS IT WITH PEOPLE NAMED DAVE, ANYWAY?
WILL LITE, MOUSE, TWAEILA AND THE OTHERS EVER ESCAPE 1984?
WILL WRITER'S BLOCK WOMAN GO DOWN WITH THE SHIP?
CAN TAFT BATTLE AN ANGEL WITHOUT IT TURNING INTO A REALLY AWFUL
PARODY OF THE 2000 SUMMER MOVIE BLOCKBUSTERS?
IS ANYONE STILL AROUND WHO EVEN REMEMBERS THIS SERIES?
ALL THESE ANSWERS...AND EVEN MORE POINTLESS QUESTIONS...IN THE
NEXT EPISODE OF "BIRTH OF A VILLAIN"
POST YOUR RESPONSE, OR SEND IT TO:
rogersr@shore.net
"Listen, there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go."
--e.e. cummings
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