[LNH] The Alt.Riders #22
Jamas Enright
thad at eyrie.org
Sat May 1 18:23:52 PDT 2004
Blue Light Productions presents:
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| #22 | | | | | | | | | | | \ | | | | | | |___
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[Cover shows Frank Bennington surrounded by glass caskets that
contain the bodies of the Alt.Riders.]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Are you now, or have you ever been, an Alt.Rider?"
The desert stretched out before him, an endless vista of sand. The sun
baked his head, making his vision swim, but he didn't move. He closed his
eyes to the glare, but closed or open, the brightness penetrated. He
breathed the hot air into his lungs, tried to hold his breath, one small
act of defiance against the heat, but had to expel again.
"Perhaps we can begin."
The voice startled his eyes open, but he didn't turn around. The
desert assaulted his senses anew, and he found himself to be panting
slightly.
"Just a few questions to start with."
Finally turning, he saw a man standing nearby, looking at him
casually. Surprisingly, for the environment, the man was in a business
suit, neatly pressed jacket, ruler-straight tie, and perfectly ironed
trousers. The heat clearly didn't bother the man, and it bothered him that
the man wasn't discomforted.
"We can start small, if you like. Maybe you could tell me what you
would like right now?"
Right now? A drink of water if nothing else. His tongue flicked over
his lips, but there was no moisture there to alleviate the power of the
sun. Failing that, shade of some kind. Perhaps even a fully
air-conditioned restaurant and hotel?
"That's perfectly understandable. Unfortunately, I can't provide
those things just yet. We have a few details we'd like answered."
He tried to wet his lips again with the same lack of success. What
was this man talking about?
"Don't worry about that. Plenty of time for that later. For now, what
is your favourite colour?"
Brown came instantly to mind, but that was easily explained by the
desert around him. He couldn't even look up to see a blue sky, the sun
directly overhead. But brown wasn't the right answer. Was it?
"That's fine. Can you remember what you have for breakfast this
morning?"
This morning? Was it only this morning since he last had breakfast?
Why did it seem like years ago? What did he have for breakfast? Did he
even have breakfast? And what had happened then? Just how did he come to
be here? And where was here?
"Ah, I see. At this point, are there any questions you'd like to have
answered?"
Despite his thoughts whirling unordered through his mind, there was
one overwhelming question in his mind, although he could barely bring
himself to acknowledge it.
Who was he?
_-~-_
Frank Bennington stared into the glass casket, taking in every feature of
the man inside. The man was of average height, with sandy-dark hair. He
wouldn't have stood out in a crowd, although his attire would have been
noticed. It was a dark one-piece body suit, the exact colour not quite
clear. There was a wavy line, almost suggesting sound waves, traveling up
the sides of the suit, and at the end of his arms were gauntlets. At the
moment, his face was peaceful, due entirely to the fact that he was
unconscious.
Frank Bennington straightened. He glanced at the technician beside
him. "You sure we've encountered him before?"
"Oh yes sir," replied the technician. "He is one of the Alt.Riders
after all, and we've come up against them many times."
Bennington sighed. Indeed they had. Like the time he had been trying
to acquire the technology from the now defunct Queen Towers in
Sin.ci.net.ty. [See _The Alt.Riders #18_ for the details - Footnote Girl.]
"Who is he again?"
"Er, his real name is Peter Markham, but I'm not exactly sure what
superhero name he goes by at the moment, but he did start out as
Inacoustic Kid. He went missing a long time ago, we believe he was
kidnaped by Queen Enterprises." [This was discovered in _World Tales #7-8_
- Footnote Girl]
Bennington snorted. That would be the kind of thing she would do.
"He returned in the presence of the woman, and they were both
requested to join the Alt.Riders. At that point, we think he changed his
name to Silence," the technician continued. [The formation of the
Alt.Riders is in _The Alt.Riders #1_ - Footnote Girl.] "You then
personally encountered him and had him locked in a particle accelerator.
We're not sure how he survived." [See _The Alt.Riders #2-3_ for how. -
Footnote Girl]
"He continued in the Alt.Riders, but he and the woman have never been
seen in the same place again, although we think he has adopted the name
'Dva'. However, the woman has also been referred to by that name. Then he,
and the rest of the Alt.Riders, disappeared several years ago. Until now."
"Until now," mused Bennington. He reached out and carefully tapped
the casket. "This will hold, won't it?"
"We believe so, sir."
Bennington shook his head gently. "I don't like it. It's too untested
for my liking."
"No offense, sir, but we are here to test it now. You did agree,"
said the technician, before hurriedly adding "sir."
"Quite," replied Bennington. He studied this Silence for a moment
longer. "Do we have a full catalogue of his abilities?"
"The most obvious power he has is over sound, sir. He is able to
silence it. Hence probably his name." The technician tried a quick smile,
but it wasn't well received. "There is some evidence he has the ability to
damped other forms of energy as well, but he doesn't seem to be present
all that often. More often his presence is replaced by the woman."
"And just where is the woman?"
The technician hesitated before answering. "We're not sure. She
should be around, but her and the other one are currently missing."
"We have details on the woman?"
The technician nodded. "Marsha Burgenstock, daughter of the Lady
Burgenstock. She joined the LNH some time ago under the name Marshmallow
Lass, but left after a few battles." [See the too-brief series of
_Guitar.Man_ for details - Footnote Girl]
"She disappeared for a while, before returning with Inacoustic Kid,"
the technician continued. [Details about that, and her past life, can be
found in the Softcentre Saga, a.k.a. _World Tales #5-8_ and the _World
Tales Annual #1_ - Footnote Girl] "She joined the Alt.Riders with him, and
took on the name Softcentre. Again, we thought she had died, but she is
evidently still alive. As I said, she also seems to be referred to by the
name 'Dva'.
"As for her abilities, she, well...has the powers of a marshmallow,
sir." Seeing the unamused look on Bennington's face, the technician
hurriedly continued. "That is the easiest term for it, sir, suggested by
her own name. When hit by anything, the blow just gets absorbed. Even
bullets just pass through her, admittedly with a, er, gooey residue. She
can even withstand falls from great heights without being hurt."
The technician nodded at a nearby casket, currently empty. "We've got
a place ready for her if she ever is located."
"Good to hear," Bennington said, before turning and striding over to
another casket. "Now, tell me about _that_."
_-~-_
She had a hand over her eyes to try to shade out the sun, but it wasn't
working. She could feel her skin peeling as the radiation etched into it,
and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. She knew exactly what would happened
under prolonged exposure, and knew she had no chance of getting through
this without help.
"This will be over soon. Just a few questions."
The man stood before her, replete in suit and tie. She studied him,
wondering how he could exist in this desert, but wasn't able to reach any
definite conclusions.
"Never mind about that now. Let's start with: what are you looking
for, on this planet?"
This planet? What planet is this? What was she doing here?
An answer did bubble up in her mind. Knowledge. Information. The
pursuit of data. And more than that, using that knowledge to help others,
make life better. That's what she wanted to do.
The man smiled. "That's admirable. And I think we can help you do
that. But let's continue. Have you ever invented any weapons?"
Weapons? Why would she want weapons? She wanted to help, not hurt.
Make life better, not take it away.
The man frowned for just a moment. "Well, I'm sure we can work around
that. Do you recognize this?" He held up a device, L-shaped, with bands of
rubber wrapped around certain parts.
She studied it for a moment, parts of her mind recognizing
components, other parts recognizing principles. As the rubber stretched
there, tension would be applied over here. That would then build up to an
explosion of kinetic energy along that axis...
It was probably due to what the man said earlier, but thoughts of a
weapon arose in her mind. It was a form of catapult, miniature in size,
but still capable of lobbing objects over distances.
"Quite right. However, the distances this can fire over aren't long
enough for our purposes. Can you see any way of improving it? Preferably
without using any detectable elements, such as metals."
Also despite herself, ideas for improvements started ticking over in
her mind.
_-~-_
"This, er, alien is of race called the Chubs, as far as we have been able
to make out," the technician explained.
Bennington looked into the casket, which was rounder than the others.
Inside was what would otherwise be described as a short fat woman in a
sailor suit. However, unlike any woman Bennington had encountered, this...
thing... had blue skin, all over. Bennington shuddered. This wasn't the
first time he had encountered an alien, but it was the most disgusting.
(That it reminded him of one of his earlier wives had nothing to do with
it.)
"It goes by the name of Missy, sir," the technician went on. "She is
the scientist among them, showing an amazing ability to pick up new
technology and information in an astoundingly short amount of time. She
appeared with the Alt.Riders a while ago, but we don't know anything about
her home planet, sir." [Details of that can be found in _The Alt.Riders
#4-5_ - Footnote Girl]
Bennington turned away slightly. "Do you really think we'll get
anything out of her?"
"Oh yes, sir," the technician affirmed. "In fact, she's the most
responsive so far. There does seem to be a problem with this technology in
that it causes a large degree of amnesia, but even that isn't stopping her
mind from being of use."
Bennington took a moment to take in the sight of the caskets around
him. Although he didn't want this project, there wasn't much he could do
about it. As part of his contract, he was required to test new
technologies, and in return they would ignore his more... illicit
dealings.
The caskets were a new form of mental programming, able to access the
mind of the person inside, bypassing their higher consciousness and go
straight into their inner thoughts. The operator interfacing could then
question them about their knowledge before giving them new 'facts' to
influence their behaviour.
It sounded a ridiculous length to go to, in Bennington's opinion, but
he wasn't in any position to argue. One benefit of this was that it was
looking to work on super-beings, and that's where most previous attempts
had fallen over before.
Not that the Alt.Riders were the most representative sample of
super-beings there was, but they were the easiest to collect...
Walking over to a fourth casket, Bennington took in the man inside.
Tall, with black hair, he wore more casual clothes, slacks, an open necked
shirt, and a jacket. Although just as innocuous looking when unconscious,
he was probably the most dangerous one here.
_-~-_
The man in the suit looked around in puzzlement. The desert was here, as
expected, but there was no-one else. Where was the person he was supposed
to talk to?
"Looking for me?"
The man didn't even have time to turn before he blacked out.
_-~-_
"The leader of the Alt.Riders, sir," said the technician, looking at a new
data sheet. "Previously known as the Phantom Walker, he now goes by the
name of Agent."
"Agent? Agent what? Agent of what?"
The technician shrugged. "Not sure, sir. Just Agent."
"And what does he do?"
"Actually, sir, we don't know. Certainly, we've been unable to
exactly ascribe any particular power to him, sir. He just seems to know a
lot, and get in the way. It could be that he doesn't actually do
anything."
"Oh, he does things, all right. Been able to survive several contract
hits I know have been called against him. This is probably the first time
we've been able to catch him off guard."
The Alt.Riders headquarters in Sin.ci.net.ty was empty when
Bennington and his team had came calling. Following instructions, caskets
had been placed in certain positions, then Bennington had activated a
device he was told was a 'Limbo-nullifier'. He wasn't sure what that did,
but moments later there was a ripple in the air, and then the caskets
contained the unconscious bodies that were now around him. All except two
of them, that was. One of them was for the woman, and the other-
An alarm sounded, and red lights started flashing.
"Turn those off!" Bennington barked, knowing that the noise wouldn't
help anyone trying to sort out confusion. "What's happening?"
"Sir, Agent's contact has..." The technician looked across to where
other technicians had gathered around a prone body. "It looks like he's
collapsed, sir. Maybe from some kind of feedback, but that shouldn't be
possible."
Bennington considered kicking the casket in front of him, but knew
that wouldn't achieve anything. "Get him disconnected at once. And don't
hook up anyone else. Isolate this casket, and make sure no-one comes near
it. I want Agent as secure as possible."
As the technician hurried away to carry out the orders, Bennington
crossed over to the last occupied casket.
From the most dangerous to the most continually annoying...
_-~-_
He could feel himself melting under the power of the sun. Literally.
Looking down at himself, he could see his feet starting to spread out,
liquefying, mixing with the sand, turning him into a human-based puddle of
mud.
He lifted one leg in panic, but his leg stretched like chewing gum,
becoming thinner, reaching breaking point. He hurriedly slammed his leg
down again, but that just pushed him further into the sand.
"We can help you. Answer some simple questions we have, and you can
go."
He didn't look around, too busy taking in the horror of his limbs.
"Did you think you could get away with it?"
This time, he did look around, quickly finding the man in the suit
beside him. Get away with what?
"We have full records of what you did. Why don't you just admit it?
Make it a lot easier all around."
What was this guy talking about? What things? Why wasn't this man
helping him with his legs? Looking back down, he could see his knees
starting to lose form.
"I'm not sure how much time you have left, but I don't think you want
to spend it like this. Why not confess? We can help you then."
Confess? Confess what? Fine, whatever it was, he'd confess to it.
Just help him!
"Thank you." The man smiled widely. "Now we can continue. You need to
make amends for what you did. And we can tell you how."
The man held up a picture. "There's a small favour you can do for
us."
_-~-_
Bennington knew quite a bit about this last person. The man in the casket
had a slight unfinished look to his features, as though the muscles and
bones beneath the skin hadn't quite set yet. Even the clothes looked
unrefined, just an attempt at material that wasn't quite distinct. The
line between where the skin ended and clothing began was blurry, as though
the body underneath wasn't quite sure where it should be covered and where
it should show skin.
This was all part of the parcel of the man called Morph, previously
Amorphous Lad. He was a shapeshifter, could become anything that could be
imagined, even things that weren't even living, which quite surprised
Bennington.
But the aspect that annoyed Bennington the most was that this Morph
was the perfect infiltrator, and had indeed infiltrated Bennington's own
organization more than once. [See _The Alt.Riders #10-12,18_ for examples
- Footnote Girl]
Previously, Amorphous Lad was a member of the LNH, but left, and then
became a major thorn in Bennington's side. [See _World Tales #9_ -
Footnote Girl] And then when he joined up with the Alt.Riders, there was
hardly a scheme Bennington had going that Morph didn't interfere in. At
least until a few years ago. But even then, his life hadn't been
completely superhero free. [See _Writer's Block Woman and Mouse #37-39_ -
Footnote Girl]
And now that Bennington had been the one to bring Morph into this
project, he just knew that something else was bound to go wrong. If he had
had his way, Bennington would have frozen them all in liquid nitrogen,
then have had at them with a sledge hammer.
_-~-_
He still couldn't remember who he was, but that wasn't as much a problem
as the man talking to him.
"Can you remember your favourite movie? Your favourite drink? Your
favourite LNHer?"
He wished the man would stop bugging him. None of those answers were
coming to him, and his mind was buckling under the pressure.
The man brought out a picture. "How about this person? Can you
remember him? We'd like you to help us with him, but if you can't remember
him, we'll have to fill in some of the details of what deeds he has done.
Unfortunately, they aren't pleasant ones."
It was just too much. He couldn't cope any more, the questions
bounced around his head, and he started looking for a solution. Any way
out.
And then something told him that maybe his wasn't the only head that
was available...
_-~-_
The technician had rejoined Bennington in front of the last casket. This
one looked different, and not just because it was empty. Bennington peered
closer. Was the glass thicker?
"Extra strength," the technician said proudly. "Built to withstand
even those powers."
"Do we know the extent of his powers?"
"Not really, but we know he has at least flight and power over fire.
There are whisperings that he can control the elements, but that might
just be rumour."
Bennington raised an eyebrow. "What else do we know about him?"
The technician took a deep breath. "His real name is Barry Knewbee,
and he went by the name of Fan.Boy when he was with the LNH. Not too
amazing, could stun people, and knew a lot, but not much else. When he
joined the Alt.Riders his powers changed, and he took on the name of the
Net.Elementalist, although we're not exactly sure what 'net.elements'
are." [Net.Elements are the net equivalent of natural elements, net for
air, thread for water, flame for fire and keystroke for earth. - Footnote
Girl]
He flicked through more notes. "He has a family in Phila.DEL.phia,
wife Alice, daughter Abby. We haven't kept our eye on them, although they
could be potentially useful one day. He's been known to hang around with
Retcon Lad. We have no idea why he didn't turn up in the casket." [The
Net.Elementalist went missing at the end of _The Alt.Riders #21_ -
Footnote Girl]
Another alarm sounded, this time with blue lights.
The technician spun around, checking the caskets. "Silence's casket,
sir."
They hurried over to the casket to find the contents had changed.
Instead of the man, there was now a dark-skinned women, in a pair of denim
overalls and a heavy top. This was the woman they had been speaking of
earlier.
"What is this?" Bennington demanded.
"There's no way anyone in the casket could have been switched, sir,"
the technician said.
"So what are you saying?"
"The only answer is," the technician paused, gulping, "they are
somehow the same person. We already have a shapeshifter," he went on
quickly, "so this isn't entirely impossible. And, it would explain how
they both have the name Dva."
There was another change in the casket. Whilst the man had been
unconscious, the woman was very conscious. Although she couldn't move
about easily, she beat her hands against the sides (doing little damage
due to her marshmallow nature).
"Sir, we have to get her out of there!"
"Why?" asked Bennington, incredulously, still trying to take in the
evidence of his eyes.
"The casket isn't designed for her body, sir. The drugs we used were
tailored for the man. It could kill her."
Already there was another change. The woman was gasping for air.
This, however, didn't bother Bennington too much. He shrugged. "Leave
her in there. Safer this way."
The technician looked shocked. "We aren't doing this to kill anyone,
sir!"
Bennington rolled his eyes. He'd had enough. "Fine. Let her out
then."
As the technician moved towards the casket control panel, Bennington
quietly slipped into the background.
_-~-_
Marsha groggily became aware of her surroundings. What the hell had been
going on? From what she could blearily make out, she was encased in a
glass casket, figures outside of it peering in at her.
Panic arose in her chest, and she beat at the glass case futilely,
trying to break free. But all she did was use up the air around her, and
she could feel her gasps becoming shorter in length.
None too soon, air rushed in as the top of the casket lifted off.
Marsha took grateful breaths as she attempted to work out where she was.
People in overalls helped her up, and she began to take in the room around
her.
It was large, like a warehouse, and she could see other caskets
around. At them there were people hooked up by wires, one man per casket.
At the end of her one, the man was ripping connection pads from his head.
One of the people talking to her said something about how amazing it
was that she could change form. Her mind slowly started gearing up to
speed, and she realized that whenever this had happen, her body had been
in Peter's form at the time, and obviously they didn't know she and Peter
could switch from one body to the other. [Due to the events in _The
Alt.Riders #3_ - Footnote Girl]
Taking in more around her, she could see that most of the other
caskets contained her colleagues, and her anger started to rise at the
thought of what had been going on around here. Giving the people holding
her a shove, she made them release her and stagger back. Not pausing, she
clambered up onto her casket, and took a flying leap.
It wasn't graceful, nor well aimed, but she managed to clear two
caskets before crashing onto a third. Fortunately, she wasn't hurt, but
the casket was pushed enough to send it, and her, crashing to the floor.
The occupant inside only needed a few moments to open his eyes and come to
complete consciousness.
And Agent was pissed.
_-~-_
Bennington stood in the monitoring room, watching the catastrophe unfold.
Agent took down several technicians, crashing into expensive equipment as
he did so. Guards exploded into the room, but Agent didn't even pause
before plowing into the nearest one, grabbing his weapon, and turning it
on the other.
Fortunately, it was only an electrical stun gun, explosive weapons
forbidden in the main room for fear of destroying equipment, but it still
delivered large amounts of pain, as the next guards in line found out.
By this time, that Softcentre woman was evading more technicians, and
sending the casket containing Morph crashing to the ground. Knowing that
the fight wouldn't last much longer with the shapeshifter free, Bennington
made his exit.
_-~-_
Sometime later, Missy was picking through the pieces of equipment that had
survived. She could already discern how the equipment worked, although she
couldn't tell the exact nature of the experiment that had been performed
on them.
"Changes the brain," she explained as best she could. Despite her
scientific brilliance, she still had trouble with the English language.
"Enables interrogation. Influences thoughts."
"Brainwashing," summed up Agent, looking around. "Any ideas what they
were trying to do?"
Dva and Morph shook their heads. Neither could remember anything of
what happened to them.
"Bet you Bennington was behind this," Morph said. "Just the sort of
thing he'd try to do."
"Probably," said Agent. "No doubt he got away for us to meet another
day."
The piece of equipment Missy was examining started sparking, making
her jump. Dva reached out, and the electricity field died down. "Thanks,"
she replied.
Morph had his head cocked to one side. "Something's different."
"Is it? Seems to me we do this sort of thing all the time," Dva
replied.
"That's just it. It feels like it's been a while since we did this at
all." His eyes widened. "Oh damn, we're being written again."
"What are you talking about?"
Morph sighed. "Don't worry. Just that I don't think our lives will
quieten down again for a long time."
"All right people," Agent announced. "Let's get out of here. It's out
job to check out strange events, and this one is over. On to the next
one!"
Rolling their eyes at his sense of melodrama, the Alt.Riders followed
Agent out of the building and on to their next adventure...
_-~-_
Meanwhile, the man in the picture looked out upon the world he controlled.
And, if he had anything to say about it, always would.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
NEXT TIME:
"Everyone comes to the Freak Show,
To laugh at the freaks, and the geeks.
Everyone comes to the Freak Show,
But nobody laughs, when they leave."
CREDITS: Agent and Frank Bennington (and the Net.Elementalist) created by
me. Marsha created by Campbell Marsh. Not sure who created Morph (nee
Amorphous Lad) or Silence (nee Inacoustic Kid). All reserved by me.
Footnote Girl (who is now claiming overtime pay) created by Saxon
Brenton.
NOTES: I'm back! I hope. This is (obviously) a heavily introductory issue
to the Alt.Riders and some of their back story. One of the main changes
I'll be making is that I've decided not to try for a particular length
each issue, which hopefully means I'll be able to get more out as I won't
spend time trying to pad them.
We'll see....
--
Jamas Enright
"Answers answered and questions questioned."
Homepage: http://www.eyrie.org/~thad/
Blue Light Productions homepage: http://www.eyrie.org/~thad/blip/
"If a great state has decided by law that twice two is five, it would be
foolish to allow mathematicians to testify." - Comment during the Scopes
Monkey Trial.
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