IMPORTANT: Within three or so days my address at AOL will no longer be
valid. I'm getting switched over to Netscape, with a new address at:
jwhitson@netvoyage.net so please send all future e-mail directed towards
me, there. Thanks!
As an additional note, Curious Lass and Psionic Lad #1-3, by
Carolyn Vaughan, occur before this issue timeline-wise. And so into the
fourteenth issue we go! One more and then my Christmas issue, and then I
get to stop panicking!
Thanks to the reviewers of issue thirteen:
Jamas Enright
Jaelle
Drizzt
Saxon Brenton
Jeff McCoskey
Carolyn Vaughan
H. Jameel al Khafiz
Ian Porell
Pam VanMuijen, from whom I received a proper beating due to the fact
that "Binky didn't kick butt!"
=========================================================================
DERELICT Press Presents
The fourteenth issue of
/~~\/~~\ {] /~~\ (^^^ || ***** /~~\
/ /\/\ \ [) ~\__ (^^ || ,' ~\__
/__/ \__\ (} \__/ ( || ', \__/
" Awakenings and Tarbabies "
A psuedo-Acraphobe title
._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.'COVER`._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.
The Junior Brotherhood of Net.Villains stands in the background,
stunned expressions on their faces. In the foreground of the cover,
pavement cracking all around her, crouches a woman cyborg with a
psychotic grin on her face, red eye-laser pointing directly at the viewer.
)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
It was late afternoon in Net.ropolis, the sun shining heavy and
yellow across the blacktop streets and tall grey buildings. Shadows grew
slowly, deepening and lengthening away from the objects that created
them, hiding pockets of slightly cooler air, where tiny animals lurked,
waiting for night to take the city and set them free to scurry through
its streets.
On a street corner in one of the city's more posh districts,
Frank's Jewelry Shack (Buy two rings and get one of equal or lesser value
free!) sat. It was smallish sort of building, painted a bright brick red
color highlighted with garish yellows and oranges. Inside you could buy a
slice of pizza and a soda for ten dollars, then eat while you looked at
the various rare gems and necklaces Frank had to offer. There was even a
tiny playset for children in the corner. Needless to say, business
wasn't going very well. And it was about to get worse, as four members of
the Junior Brotherhood of Net.Villains crept slowly towards it, sun
casting their shadows blackly ahead of them.
-=ð=- -=ð=-
Kismet meanwhile, was on the LNHHQ roof, working her way slowly
through an encyclopedia. The insect-peoples' writing was much like her
own peoples', but more blunt and less stylized, like rows of black ants
marching across the paper. She found their knowledge-books informative,
if a little confusing. They assumed a certain amount of previous
knowledge in their readers, which Kismet didn't possess. She sighed, and
turned another page. At least she knew what the strange metal creatures
that roamed the black paths below her were. They were _automobiles_ and
the insect-people used them to get around. They built them, like tiny
little portable cells, then locked themselves inside them and "drove" to
where they wanted to go. Kismet had appreciated her ability to fly even
more after she had finished the article. She still hadn't found anything
in the knowledge-books that told her how the insect-people could stand to
live so close together, but she had discovered a word for _her_ feelings
on the subject.
"Claw-stro-fobic," she whispered to herself, trying the word on
for size. It was a nice and big, which was appropriate for a word that
indicated a dislike of small spaces. Kismet liked it. Perhaps she could
use it for that odd custom Brittany had mentioned... code-names?
There was a lot Kismet didn't understand about the place her
newfound friends held in society. As far as she could tell, these
"super-heroes" served no purpose, other than to beat up the er...
"super-villains". Why would one want to dress up in a skintight costume
and hit other people in skintight costumes? Were the skintight costumes
necessary to hitting each other? She had hit the man in black armor while
wearing nothing skintight, and that hadn't seemed to have been a faux
pas. And the insect-girl who yelled a lot... Paytan. She didn't wear
skintight clothes when she tried to hit the man in the black armor
either. So perhaps the clothes were merely ceremonial.
She could understand why they'd want to hit each other though.
Live long enough, day after day, living so close to people and bumping
into them, and breathing the air they breathed, and feeling their clothes
whisper by yours as they brushed by, continuously... urgh. Kismet
shuddered. Of course they'd want to hurt each other after all that.
Perhaps _that_ was the purpose these "supers" served. They were icons for
the rest of the insect-people to idolize and use to release the stress of
living so closely together with each other. Perhaps there was a mental
link between the, er... hero, and those watching him or her while he or
she fought the villain, allowing the observes to share in the release of
stress. That sounded plausible.
She would be glad to participate in the culture this way, at
least until she could figure out how to get home. This was actually a
rather interesting dimension, when people weren't standing too close to
her.
Kismet picked up one of the metal glove-like artifacts she had
used during the fight, so that she could hit Flashback without actually
touching him, and began to slowly polish it. The insect-people probably
wouldn't be able to make replacement gauntlets for her if she broke one
of hers, so they would have to be taken very good care of. She sighed,
and turned to the next page of the knowledge-book that lay before her,
and read slowly while she polished. There was so very much to learn.
-=ð=- -=ð=-
The door to the LNHHQ Med.Lab was open, and the lights were on
inside. Within, Organic Lass was slowly cleaning the empty husk of a
stasis chamber. A tear slowly dragged its way down her cheek, but she
wiped it away quickly and went back to her work. She brushed back a
stray bit of hair from her face, and happened to glance into the corner
of the room farthest from the door. And froze.
A second later she was moving again, sweeping towards the bed in
the far corner, it's top sheet covered in dust, a check-up chart laying
where it had been thrown on the ground. The sheets had been thrown back
in a tangled mess, and a deep depression had been left in the pillow
where someone's head had lain for a very long time. A sick sinking
feeling started coiling in the base of her stomach as she knelt down to
lift the battered chart from where it lay. She read the patient's name at
the top of the chart...
" Oh no," whispered Organic Lass," not her," standing and moving
towards the panel that would connect her intercom to Ultimate Ninja's
office.
" Not Censor Girl."
-=ð=- -=ð=-
" -bzzzt- Hello? is anyone there?" asked the intercom. Frat Boy
looked up from his magazine and grumbled something to himself, then
tapped the two-way conversation button.
" Yeah, Frat Boy here. What do you want?"
" Well, I'm the temp. secretary out here at the front desk and I
just got a call from some nice man. He said villains were attacking his
store. I've got him on hold right now, is there anyone we can send?"
" Well, now that you mention it..." drawled the net.hero. No need
to bother Ultimate Ninja with this call. Most LNHers hated getting called
out of their plotlines to deal with random villain attacks. Hated it
a lot. Frat Boy grinned. "... I know just the people. Tell the nice man
than help will arrive soon."
-=ð=- -=ð=-
" Geez, just because you bean someone with a pineapple _once_,
they have to go and get all huffy and give you assignments and stuff..."
muttered Brittany as she moved her hovercycle out of the wooden shed and
onto the sidewalk running around LNH headquarters. Mean ol' Frat Boy.
Savannah was outside already, leaning against the shed's wall
with her eyes closed, hair swept back into a tight ponytail. She was
wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and a pair of socks that didn't match.
" Brittany, is that you?" she asked as her cousin brought the
quietly humming hovercycle towards her, worry evident in her voice.
" Yuppers!" declared Brit, turning a dial and stabbing at a few
random buttons on the control board of the cycle. The cycle's engine
coughed sickly, then roared upwards, settling into a steady rumbling
noise. Savannah sighed and levered herself off the wall, taking a few
shuffling steps towards where she heard the engine noise emanating from.
" So now we go to help others to release stress, correct?" asked
Kismet, coming to a graceful landing onto the middle of the lawn, about
ten feet away from Brittany. Brit stopped and blinked at her.
" We what?"
" Um... we go out and hit people in skintight costumes?" ventured
Kismet hopefully. Perhaps her assumption on the roof had been just that -
an assumption. Brittany cocked her head to one side.
" Well, kinda. I mean, if they really want to get into fist-fight,
I suppose we could oblige. I guess. Hmmmm... oh well. Do you want to ride
on the hovercycle or just follow us while flying?" asked Brit. Kismet
glanced at the black thing floating above the ground next to Brit. That's
a very small automobile, she thought to herself. It looks like you're
supposed to straddle it or something... and there's only room for two
people to sit without touching, and leaves only a very small space
between even those _two_. Kismet shuddered.
" I will fly, thank you. So I follow you to the villains, yes?"
" Uhuh," Brit nodded," But since we don't know who it is we're
supposed to be apprehending, follow our lead when we get there, okay? If
it turns out to be somebody really dangerous, then we won't have time for
fancy speeches or anything."
" Alright..." trailed off Kismet. She would, er, `follow their
lead' when they arrived at the villains. This place was so confusing.
She sighed internally then turned and began to run across the lawn, legs
pumping up and down. It was harder taking off from flat ground than to
jump off something. She crouched then, and hurled herself into the air,
wings beating once, then twice, as she sailed a few feet above the HQ
lawn. She curved her trajectory, tilting her wings slightly to send her
steadily heading upwards as she circled the lawn. Brittany watched her
take-off, then turned to Savannah.
" C'mon cuz, time to go." Her cousin nodded, and stuck her hand
out, keeping her eyes tightly shut. Brit grabbed Savannah's hand and
guided her slowly over to the hovercycle, helping her safely aboard, then
jumped on too. She paused for a moment, her eyes moving across the
control board of the cycle. "Now where'd that ignition button go to... oh
well!"
" Brittany, I hate it when you say that..." moaned Savannah, a
split second before the cycle's afterburners engaged, sending it
rocketing out of the yard, headlights on high beam, radio on full volume
tuned to a country music station, streamers fluttering from the tail
lights, with the engine giving off an odd-colored reddish gas...
-=ð=- -=ð=-
A few streets away from the Headquarters, down a thin alleyway
and behind a pile of overturned garbage cans a woman leaned against a
brick wall, panting. She had run all the way over here, all on her own,
and now she was very, very, tired. She let her knees slowly buckle
beneath her, and slid down the wall into a sitting position.
She'd escaped! No one had seen her, not a single person! She
squirmed and giggled happily to herself. Mr.Killfile would be so prou -
Oh. Yeah.
She screwed up her mouth and sniffed, wrapping her arms tightly
around her midsection for comfort. Mr.Killfile wasn't there anymore. No
one was there. She was alone. Again. He had left her all alone, and then
the Legion of Net.Heroes had hurt her, and then that evil man had hurt
her, and then she couldn't remember anything else. Just waking up in a
dark room with lots of beds and running, running until she could barely
breathe. She hated this.
" I WANT MR.KILLFILE!" she screamed, her voice supported and
increased in volume by several minor cybernetic systems until it blared
like a wall of sound from the alley, shattering several windows. She
stopped and listened to the echoes to fade away, and to the scurry of
feet as people outside the alley cleared the area. But no one came.
Especially not her master. She sniffled, one of her eyes shlicking open
and shut emotionlessly, the red lense scanning back and forth and taking
environmental readings of her surroundings, while the other filled with
tears.
She closed her real eye and called up an image of Killfile from
her memory banks. He flashed into existence on the lense of her
cybernetic eye, in all his glory and power, and she sighed contentedly.
He was so strong. She wished he was here now. He would be, if it wasn't
for the Legion of Net.Heroes. If they hadn't hurt him. She had thought no
one in the world could hurt him. But they did. And now he was gone. And
it was ALL THEIR FAULT! They'd made him go away, and because he wasn't
there to protect her, people had _hurt_ her! She shifted a little on the
dirty, crumbly, blacktop beneath her and dismissed the image. She felt
wrong.
Not just sad, like always, or angry, like always, but wrong.
She'd felt wrong ever since she woke up. Like part of herself had run
away, and left her all alone with herself. She shifted uncomfortably
again on the cold ground, concentrating. Like... like she wasn't very
real anymore. Like whenever she was thinking about something, or
remembering things, and they were missing a layer. She couldn't figure
out what it was. And her cybernetic systems felt weird, too. She couldn't
access some of her master files like she used to be able to, and she
thought that some of her command lines had been altered somehow. It felt
like there was large chunk of her processors that the rest of her refused
to acknowledge existed. Like someone else was hiding behind the rest of
her mind. She didn't like it.
Experimentally, she tried again to access the locked area of her
mind. Several probes went shooting around internal back routes, using
byways that didn't normally interface with the locked area. Almost -
bzzzt - what was she thinking? Oh yeah, the "heroes".
It was probably all Their fault. The Legion of Net.Heroes had
done this. They'd hurt her master, and now they were twisting her all up,
and if They didn't stop soon she was going TO HIT THEM ALL UNTIL THEY
STOPPED MOVING!
Censor Girl growled and forced herself to her feet, the momentary
spell of weakness having passed. In the shadows of the alley, her
cybernetic eye began to glow a sullen, red glow.
-=ð=- -=ð=-
The hovercycle screamed around the avenue corner, leaving a
slowly dispersing trail of red smoke behind it and hovering dangerously
low to the ground in the middle of the curve. It came out of the turn not
into the far right lane, but onto the sidewalk next to it, hurling by
public mailboxes and street posts at breakneck speeds. Brittany was
leaning over the handlebars, eyes squinting a little in the wind, hair
whipping wildly behind her. Savannah had her eyes tightly shut, arms
wrapped around her older cousin's waist, holding on for dear life. Far
above them, setting sun flashing off her golden wings, Kismet wondered
idly what Weirdness Girl would have done had there been any pedestrians
about.
Back at Frank's Jewelry Shack, Mr.Exposition was cackling madly.
" You need to work on the beginning of that laugh, buddy," said
Dust, shoveling fake-looking rings into a sack at her side.
" HAHAHAHA - what?"
" Nevermind," she sighed. Behind her Hooded Ho-od Win Jr. tried
to be helpful, levitating shakily up to some of the higher shelves, her
make-shift robes getting tangled up in her tennis shoes. She reached up
to grab at a necklace, her hand barely brushing the edge of the shelf
before her powers gave out and dropped her to the floor below.
" Hooded Ho'od Win Jr., you're not good enough at controlling
your powers yet to try to levitate that high," said Mr.Exposition running
over to help her to her feet. Across the room Explosion Boy leaned idly
against the wall, looking out one of the windows. dust glanced up at him
sourly.
" You know you can watch _and_ help at the same time, EB," she
said. He glanced at her for a second, then back out the window.
" It doesn't matter what I do, Dust. It doesn't matter what you
do, either. All we have to is - here they are! Positions everyone!" he
called. Mr.Exposition grabbed a sack from Dust and dumped some stuff in,
beginning to laugh manically again. HHW Jr. stepped backwards, into the
depths of the shop, fading back into the shadows. Explosion Boy took a up
a commanding-looking position in front of the door.
Brittany burst through it a few second later, skidding to a halt
in front of Explosion Boy.
" Halt villain!" she exclaimed. The doorway behind her darkened
as another girl entered, this one with a set of massive golden wings
arching away from her back and wearing some metal gauntlets that seemed
to be of the same material. She looked curiously at Brittany, then took
up an imposing stance, too. Explosion Boy put on his best Evil Look.
" Do you think you can best _me_, foolish net.hero!" he shouted.
Brit poked him in the solar plexis with her finger.
" Yeah."
" Well you can't!" he shouted again, and shoved Brit. She
stumbled back a few steps, her mouth screwed up into a tiny frown.
" Hmph," groused Brit, whipping out one of her trademark plush
fish. Behind her Kismet's head dropped a little lower, and a deep growl
began in the base of her throat. The winged girl looked considerably more
imposing than Brittany did at the moment.
At least until a cloud of dust flew into her eyes, causing her to
fall backwards against the wall. Kismet brushed at the tiny specks
ineffectively trying to get them away from her eyes and nose. Brit's eyes
narrowed, and she threw herself at Explosion Boy, one arm swinging back
in preparation for a fish-clubbing.
Then, from off to her left, a large metal hook attacked to a line
swung towards her, wrapping itself around her arm and jerking her
backwards.
" Hahaha. You will learn to fear the Jr. Brotherhood of
Net.Villains," screamed Mr.Exposition," And to fear the power of these,
my Plot Hooks! Hahaha." Brit looked at him for a minute, then threw a
fish at his head, a second before Hooded Ho'od Win Jr. wrapped herself
around her ankles.
The fish thunked solidly into Mr.Exposition's shoulder, and he
lost his grip on the line long enough for Brit to get herself untangled.
She tossed the hook and line towards the back of the jewelry shop, then
looked at HHW Jr. for a second, puzzled.
" Janey! You're not supposed to tackle them," screamed Dust from
the sidelines," Make her fight something!" The younger net.villain
released her death grip on Brittany's legs and scooted backwards.
" Um. Um, I just have to wonder who'od win.... this girl in front
of me or - mmrph!" Luckily for Brit, no villains had yet been introduced
with the code-name of Mmrph!. The net.heroine brought her hand away from
HHW Jr.'s mouth a second to glare at her, a split second before Dust
tackled her. They rolled across the floor, and came up with Brittany on
top, looking down at Dust with a hurt expression on her face.
" That wasn't very nice," muttered Brit, and clubbed her with her
remaining fish. Dust winced, her vision going blurry for a second. Behind
her the dust and debris under her control dropped to the ground, freeing
Kismet from their assaults. The winged girl lay on the floor coughing
weakly, attempting to get the particles out of her mouth and throat. She
decided she didn't like superheroing very much.
-=ð=- -=ð=-
Censor Girl dropped lightly to the pavement outside Frank's
Jewelry Shack, drawn by the sounds of fighting inside. She peered inwards
curiously. Well, they were clearly supers, whoever they were, she
concluded. Most normal people didn't fight each other in the middle of
jewelry stores. But which one were the heroes and which ones were the -
- whrrrrrr * click -
She stood smoothly and shattered the store window with her bionic
fist, stepping through the glass and into the torn-up store. Once inside,
she stopped and considered the two groups before her. The one with most
numbers seeming to be the best choice, she turned to the young oriental
girl standing in the center of the floor.
" My name is Censor Girl, and I'm about to become a part of your
organization. As a show of loyalty, your adversaries will now die at my
hands," she stated calmly. Dust looked at her stunned as the cyborg
turned and grabbed Kismet by the neck with her bionic hand. The winged
girl tried futilely to struggle and fight back, her gut twisting at the
fact that this odd half-metal insect-person was actually _touching_ her.
Censor Girl's hand slowly began to tighten on the net.heroine's
windpipe.
________________________________________________________________________
Binky, The Jr.Brotherhood of Net.Villains, Kismet, Out-of-It Lass,
Weirdness Girl, copyright Jennifer Whitson, 1995. Censor Girl is Public
Domain. Frat Boy is Public Domain.
Next Issue:
The second JBoNV arc concludes! Censor Girl vs. The Misfits. JBoNV
vs. The Misfits
And why the heck did the JBoNV attack Frank's Jewelry Shack in the
first place?
=========================================================================
------
.sig is living in jungle with pack of wolves and refuses to come back.
