[REPOST/LNH] Saviors of the Net #6: "When Retcons Ricochet...."

[Arthur Spitzer]

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[Cover:  A cracked mirror overtakes the entire cover.  Each crack reflects a
different scene involving either the Saviors or the LNH.  In the center a
furry raccoon hand reaches through the mirror.]

Preludes and Raccoons

He looked just like any other raccoon.  Well disregarding the purple derby
on his head, the black vest with the two red monogrammed Rs and the fact
that he was levitating in mid-air.  If you could ignore all of that then he
looked just like every other raccoon that could wipe you out of existence as
easily as it could blink its eyes.

At that precise moment, the Retcon RACCoon was reading a newspaper.
Apparently the Self-Righteous Preacher had been shot by an unknown assassin
and had been declared dead by the LNH.  This made the Retcon RACCoon sad.
The Self-Righteous Preacher had always been the RACCoon's favorite character
in the LNH.  Sure the Preacher had his flaws.  He was arrogant, longwinded,
and had absolutely no sense of humor.  But on the other hand he had great
hair, a nifty cross, and a terrific singing voice.  And in the greater
scheme of life, some things were just more important than others.

But the depression didn't last long.  The raccoon didn't like being sad.
And when things saddened the raccoon -- well -- those things just didn't
last very long.  And with a twitch of an eye, the Self-Righteous Preacher
returned back to life as if he had never been dead.  And the Retcon RACCoon
grinned.  All was right with the world again.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *
The Saviors of the NET:
Issue Six
                       "When Retcons Ricochet...."

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *


The Retcon RACCoon reflected for a moment about how he had arrived to the
point where he was now.  He remembered the hard place he had once been.  The
Cold Hard Place where reality was almost been impossible to move.  Not like
here.  Here the Reality was so soft that merely by thinking he could mold it
into any shape he wanted.  Like mud.  It had been the female human in the
white lab coat that had transported him to this reality.  Dr. Net.ropolis?
Yes, that was her name.  She had brought him here to be a part of this team
called the Saviors of the NET.  Like some djinn to fulfill their wishes and
greatest desires.  While that had been amusing, he had far too many wishes
for him to waste on others.  This reality was just too vast to stay in one
place.  And there was so much to do.

Sure this reality was pretty interesting to begin with.  But -- hey!
Nothing was perfect.

And while the raccoon reflected to himself, he noticed a little kid crying
to himself.

"Why are you crying, human childling?"

"I -- I had an ice cream cone.  But -- I ate it.  Now, I don't have it no
more!  It's gone.  And I wish it wasn't."

"Ah, I see childling.  You wish to have your cake, but you wish to eat it
too.  Correct?"

"No, you stupid critter.  I *said* I want ice cream.  Not cake!  Don't you
know English!!"

"Ah!  I believe I can fix this problem," the raccoon said with a mischievous
grin.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

In a Killfile -- No One Can Hear You Plot....

"I can't believe it happened!  So close!  But that idiot with the Afro had
to ruin it!"

The Lava Lamp interrupted Captain Killfile's complaints.

"Are you sure the LNH can't hear us..?"

"This is a killfile.  Is that not the point of one?  I control everything in
the killfile -- including time.  At most, the LNH'rs will see a blue flash
when we enter and when we return.  They won't even realize we've been
anywhere."

"Yes.  Of course.  Pardon the paranoia.  With all of those bugs -- well, you
know.  It's amazing though.  I've never been inside one of these things.  It
kind of looks like something from the Spanish Inquisition, doesn't it?" the
Lava Lamp said examining one of the wooden racks.

Captain Killfile smiled.  "As I said -- I control everything within the
killfile -- even it's appearance.  If only more people had followed in
Torquemada's footsteps, this world wouldn't be the decaying cesspool of
anarchy it currently is.  He knew what order truly was."

"I bet you're a lot of fun at parties," the Lava Lamp quipped while
examining the spikes inside the iron maiden.

"I have no time for your infantile attempts at wit."

"Oh, I thought you controlled time here," the Lava Lamp smirked, "Relax.
We'll have plenty of time to go after each other's throats once we rule the
Net.  As far as the whole deal with the Preacher, well -- it was a shame we
couldn't killfile, brainwash, and then make him a full fledged member.
Although on the other hand, I'm not really sure how realistic that plan was
in the first place.  Perhaps our mystery assassin was a blessing in
disguise.  In the end, it's just history.  We need to move on to more
important matters."

"Like?"

"The Ultimate Savior for one.  I'm afraid he's becoming to attached to the
role he's playing.  And the people love him a bit too much.  It's not just
the T-shirts or the mugs that are making them love him.  They truly love
him."

"One of his powers?"

'Perhaps.  Hell -- even I respect the snot faced brat.  And sometimes -- I
feel pity and guilt for what we're going to do to him.  Just sometimes."

"Yes.  I know what you mean."  There was some silence.

"There are also these little items, like the Jesse Cashew history we had the
raccoon retcon in disappear without a trace."

"The raccoon's powers aren't as permanent as we thought they'd be?"

"That's what I hope it is.  Because the only other possibility is that the
creature retconned the retcon on purpose."

"Also the "Saviors'" aging is getting out of control.  At the rate he's
going, I can't see him lasting longer than a couple weeks."

"And this is a bad thing?" Killfile asked coldly.

"Yes!  We still need his raw power!  Especially, if the LNH decides to
attack us.  He's our ace, Killfile!  With him nothing can stop us.  Without
him -- well, it gets a lot harder."

"What I can't understand is why he's aging at all?  It's as if some force is
working against us.  I'm curious Killfile, do you know what or who the "Alt.
Lord" is?"

"I -- uh -- You mean you don't know who the Alt. Lord is?"  The blood in her
face vanished.  All that remained was ghostly white.

"Should I?  All I know is that I had a dream last night and in the dream I
saw clouds shaped like that name.  Why?  Who is the Alt. Lord?"

"I don't know.  The name's familiar -- but -- I can't think of any reason
why I should know it."

"Curious.  Well, it's probably unimportant.  Perhaps one of the other
Saviors knows what the name means."

Captain Killfile nodded.  However secretly, she was relieved that the topic
had changed.

"Any other important items I may have missed?"

"Joan, 'code named' Arc, is still missing.  You remember her -- Don't you?"

"Umm -- Noah's wife?  Really, Captain Killfile -- Haven't a clue what you're
jabbering about."

"Are you serious!?  She was a member of our group from the beginning who had
weak knees about our plans, bailed, and went into hiding."

"Completely.  I've been with this team since the beginning.  I'd think I'd
know if a member bailed and went into hiding.  I have no idea who this Arc
you're talking about is."

"I was afraid of that -- because in a sense I know what you're talking
about.  She was a member -- I remember that.  Yet, I have no memory of her
at the same.  You don't suppose..?"

"..That the vermin is playing some twisted game with us?  Yes, the more I
think about it, the more I come to that conclusion.  Damn Net.ropolis for
bringing that creature here.  Let's return to the base."

With a blue flash, the two fizzled away leaving a variety of torture devices
alone by themselves again.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

The Naked Hunch

And in a blue flash they returned to find the Gothic Gorilla munching on a
banana accompanied by a strange naked man who was drinking a cup of coffee.

"What the..?" the Lava Lamp exclaimed, "I thought we were supposed to come
back at the same time we left!"

"We should have.  I'm not sure -- Who in Hell is that naked man on the
couch, Gothic Gorilla?"

"Now, now, Captain Killfile.  Is that anyway to talk about your new team
member?  Why we were just having a invigorating discourse about the
absurdity of clothing and this bizarre sense of modesty your human species
seems to need.  Banana, anyone?"

"New member?  Since when did we start initiating naked freaks?"

"Nudist Man, Miss.  Naked Freak retired several years ago,"  Nudist Man
added helpfully.

"Ah, I seem to see the trouble."  The Gothic Gorilla put his banana aside on
the coffee table, and pointed to one of his arcane pins on his black
trenchcoat.  "You see this pin?  It protects me from the effects of retcons.
We appear to be caught in some kind of a continuity storm.  I've been
witnessing some interesting shifts of reality.  And also had a fascinating
meeting with some dark shadowy figure who was under the impression that he
was some how the real leader of the Saviors of the NET.  Apparently being in
the killfile protected you somewhat from the retcons."

"So basically you're telling us that Reality itself is being ripped to
shreds and you're sitting around stuffing yourself with bananas while having
inane conversations about the importance of clothing!  Is that what you're
saying?!" asked Captain Killfile with a combination of shock and rage.

The Arcane Ape shrugged his shoulders.  "It's just reality.  I think you
take it much more seriously than it deserves, Brunhilda."

"Someone has too."  Her gauntlets started crackling blue killfile energy.

"Kids! Kids," interrupted the Lava Lamp in an attempt to break up a possible
fight, "Need I remind you, Big Brother is watching us.  Let's not get
carried away.  Now let's get back to this continuity storm.  Clearly this is
not a good thing.  And I think we all know who's responsible for it.  The
question is how do we stop it, and of course how it will effect our plan to
save the Net."  Lava Lamp looked at one of the LNH's cameras and gave it a
wink.

"It would seem to me that the best person to ask would be Dr. Net.ropolis,"
the Gothic Gorilla suggested, "Who unfortunately is absent at this time."

"Really?  Where did she run off to?"

"I didn't ask.  The Boy Savior is missing too, in case you were wondering.
Oh, and Very Disturbed Scary Creature Man, also."

"Christ!  Well this is just perfect!  Hell -- round up all the remaining
Saviors!  I don't think we have enough time to hunt for those three.  I
think we have enough power to take the creature on."

"Maybe," the Gorilla said with doubt in his tone, "But I'm not sure blindly
rushing into a brawl with the raccoon is the best way.  I think I'll handle
this on my own terms. See you."  With that the Gothic Gorilla vanished in a
puff of black smoke, chuckling to himself.

"*Cough* *cough* -- filthy beast *hack*," Captain Killfile muttered to
herself waving the smoke from her face.

"Not sure what you're talking about, but I'd be happy to help you," Nudist
Man broke in having kept silent for most of the debate.

"And what can *you* do??" Captain Killfile glared at the Unclothed Crusader
with disgust.

"Well, I've had a number of years of experience as a hero.  Since the 60's,
when I was a member of the Legion of Net.Hippies.  Um -- well I think I was
a member.  Hmm, sorry, that whole time period is a bit of a blur.
Regardless, my power is kind of the element of surprise.  You see -- I'm
kind of an ultimate wildcard.  No one knows what to do when confronted with
an angry fighting naked man.  It's just throws a complete wrench into the
works.  It's the one thing no super-villain mastermind ever plans for.  The
Angry Naked Guy Factor.  It's a Zen like thing I guess.  Oh yeah -- I also
never have to do any laundry."

"What do you think?" Lava Lamp whispered to Captain Killfile.

"I say we use him as cannon fodder."

"Hey, looks like you're in!  Welcome to the Saviors of the NET!"  Lava Lamp
smiled shaking Nudist Man's hand."

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

Watching the LNH Watch

The Ultimate Ninja tumbled from the ceiling doing a few complex twists and
turns before landing that not even the most versed practitioner of the
martial arts could hope to accomplish in their wildest dreams.  Landing in a
full majestic pose(TM) his muscles rippled in such a way that they seemed to
express how futile it would be to fight, that you should just give up and
save yourself the incredible pain and humiliation that you would receive if
you were foolish enough to even attempt such stupidity.  His costume, except
for a bright red, white, and blue sash, was darker than a blind person
wearing sunglasses at night in a closet could imagine.  If God could get
away with wearing that costume with out being laughed at, he too might be
close to the greatness it is to be the  -- Ultimate Ninja!

"Anything new on the Savior of the NET front, Deductive Logic Man?"

"I suspect with Sister, Sister, and Sister's assistance we can successfully
sue the Saviors, oh btw the name's Deductive Reasoning Man -- not -- not --
I'm sorry.  I don't know why I just said that -- I feel strange, UN."

"Yes, I know.  I've been feeling a little odd too.  I'm afraid there's no
use in denying it.  We're definitely in a Crossover.  Damn the fourth wall
and the fools behind it!"

One of the sisters broke into the conversation, "You know we'd be happy to
sue the writers who are forcing you into this Crossover."

"No thank you, Ladies.  I apologize for inconveniencing you, but -- I'm
afraid we have no need of your services.  There are lines that the LNH
should never cross.  As Nietzsche Man once said, 'Do not sue monsters, lest
they sue you back.'  Once again my humblest apologies."

"Stuff your apologies, ninja!  No one fires us!  Do you realize Who you
speak too?  We are Sister, Sister, and Sister.  We have battled the Gods in
court!  You are nothing to us.  As the Bard Man once said, 'Hell hath no
fury like a lawyer scorned.'  We will sue you till you lose the flesh on
your bones.  And then we will sue your bones!"

"Multi-Tasking Man, please -- if you would, teleport these "ladies" to an
alternate universe where being a lawyer is a capital offense."

"Hey! *You* can't do that.  We'll sue you for illegal teleportation.  We're
Sister, Sister.." but before they could finish they vanished into thin air.

"I'm sorry, UN.  But when I saw their TV ad, I couldn't resist.  I don't
know why.."

"Save it, Deductive Logic Man.  The way I see it, the sooner we solve this
mess that the Saviors have created, the sooner we can get things back to
normal.  Well, as normal as life can be in the LNH.  Speaking of which, are
there any new developments?"

"Sorry, boss."  Renegade Programmer chimed in.  "All we're getting is
static.  They must have found a way to disable our bugs.  No wait -- a sec
-- Look at this!  On all of the monitors.  It's the Ultimate Savior -- weird
he looks a lot older than he did a day ago -- and someone else -- It's hard
to tell, but the person kind of looks familiar.  I think.--wait!  That can't
be right!  It looks -- it looks like Self-Righteous Preacher, only he's
wearing leather and has gone punk.  This can't be right!  The Preacher's
dead."

"No, it's right."  The LNH'rs turned around to see a shaken Cannon Fodder
entering the monitor room.  "Only it's not the Preacher.  It's Vice.  He
killed me, but well -- umm -- I got better."

"Who is this Vice?" the Ultimate Ninja questioned Cannon Fodder.

"Vice."  The LNH'rs noted the familiar voice of the Sentry of Summary, Kid
Recap.  "He's every crime and inhumanity you can imagine.  Kitten Juggling,
Getting Nuns drunk and then shaving their heads, Double Dipping your chip --
you name it.  He was last seen in Malingerer Lad and Teenfactor # 20.  He is
the personification of Self-Righteous Preacher's repressed Id, the shadow of
his soul."

"What kind of Freudian nonsense is that?"

"Hey!  Don't look at me.  I don't write this stuff. I just recap it!"

The ninja sighed.  But it didn't take long for even his sigh to be
interrupted.

"Look!  On the screen!  The Savior Dude is going Xena: Warrior Princess like
with his "Holy" Hoop on the Vice Dude!"

"My money's on the Savior Man."

"No way!  Vice is going to kick the Savior's sorry butt."

"No way!  You're on.  Two weeks salary."

The ninja shook his head.  He turned his attention to the detective.  "What
do you think?  Staged?"

"It's hard to tell."

"UN!  Net.ropolis (the city not the Doctor) has gone crazy!"

"Tell me something new Multi-Tasking Man."

"No -- I'm serious.  The innocent bystanders have lost control of
themselves.  They're rioting and looting in the street.  The police are
doing the best they can to contain the situation, but they need the LNH's
help!"

"Multi-Tasking Man, get Catalyst Lass and Innovative Offense Boy to organize
ten teams with three heroes apiece and send them each to the trouble areas.
Well, detective -- is this part of the Saviors plan?"

"If it is I can't see the logic behind.  It's almost madness."

"The Savior's not doing well against Vice, UN.  And from the looks of it,
during the past hour he aged half a year!  I think he's going to lose the
fight, UN!"

The Ultimate Ninja looked at screen in front of him like a Grandmaster
looking at a chessboard.  He studied every movement, every possibility.

"No, I don't think so.  At least not this fight.  Multi-Tasking Man.
Prepare a flight.thingee.  I think, however, that the Savior is going to
need the LNH's help to win this fight.  Yes, I definitely think that.
Besides it's been awhile since I've had a worthy opponent."

And if you could somehow unveil the shadow that is the Ultimate Ninja's
mask, you might have seen a tiny smile.  A smile like a fox.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

Dancing with the Ultimate Sinner

The figure hovered above Net.ropolis like an Angel made of sin.  If you
could remove the sunglasses, the black leather jacket, the T-shirt with the
red splattered V on it, the cigarette, the three day growth of stubble on
his face, the blazing 666 across his forehead, and the two red horns coming
out of his skull then you might be reminded of someone who looked exactly
like the Self-Righteous Preacher before Garth Ennis got a hold of him.

Vice looked down on the innocent bystanders who were starting to panic and
riot.  He saw rocks smashing windows, fires being set.  Amazing what
releasing the repressed Ids of a city can do.  Vice smiled.  He looked down
on his work, and saw that it was good.

"What have you done to this city!?"

Vice looked at the ludicrous man in the Blue, Red, and White costume with
some glowing hoop who seemed to be upset at what he had been doing to the
city.

"Breaking the chains.  Giving the people what they want.  Absolute Freedom.
The ability to do anything you want and not apologize for it in the morning.
That's what I'm doing, Ultimate Savior.  Why?  Do you have a problem with
it?"  Vice said with a tone of mock innocence.

"You're not the Preacher.  Are you?"

"What gave me away?  Was it my sparkling personality, or my divine sense of
humor?"

"Who are you?  What are you?"

"Well, I could give you the line about being the Preacher's dark side come
to life, but even that's not completely true.  What am I?"

"I am the smoke behind the mirrors."

"I'm the slowly burning waste."

"I am the riddle that bleeds tears."

"And as that pop song goes, A man of wealth and taste..."

"But all the far out cats and chicks call me Ole Scratch, cuz it's so
groovy.  You dig?"  Ole Scratch gave a dark chuckle as his voice changed.

"You see Savior man, Preachy babe brought this all on his li'l ole self.
But you're probably to young to remember it.  Back in the late sixties early
seventies it was all different.  I was a hero and a member of the LNH.
Called myself, Anti-Christ Lad.  Hey, it was all part of the game.  I was
just having a li'l fun.  But preachy babe -- Preachy Babe had to come in and
ruin my game.  At first I thought Preachy was a part of the game.  That was
my mistake.  The next thing I knew I was in Hell.  I had lost everything.
Needless to say this was all very super ungroovy.  I needed my revenge.  But
then don't we all." [Jong #4 - Inarticulate Art]

"So I spent the next twenty-five or so years cracking away at Preachy's
faith.  Cracking away at his purpose.  Hey, what else are you going to do in
hell?  It wasn't easy, let me tell you. But hey -- all mortals are made of
glass -- it's just a question of how hard that glass is.  But I'll admit
that the preacher was made of some pretty hard glass.  He went through quite
a lot without breaking.  Giant Hedgehogs.  A night in jail in Espanola.  You
name it.  But hey, all glass -- eventually breaks.

You want to know what broke the Preacher?  A video tape.  Of course this was
a special tape.  You remember a few years ago on the news they had that
story about that alternate universe that the Legion of Occult Heroes came
from biting the dust?" [LOH #4 - Arid Art]

There was sadness in the Ultimate Saviors eyes.  "Yes.  I remember that."

Ole Scratch grinned.  "Well on the tape there was an interesting section.
Well, interesting for Preachy anyway.  It seems the alternate version of the
Preacher convinced that God had abandoned them decided the best way to make
God comeback would be to hold a mass suicide to prove their 'worthiness'.
The amusing thing is, it didn't work."

"Preachy babe must have watched that tape over a hundred times.  At first I
think he tried to deny that any of the tape was real.  Just a trick by those
satanic LOH'rs.  But there is only so long that you can ignore the darkness
of your own soul.  The flaws in your being.  And well chip, chip, crack,
crack.  It all comes tumbling down."

"At first, I was satisfied with releasing the Preacher's own darkness.  But
when it comes to evil, I'm afraid Preachy babe just didn't have the
imagination for it.  But then he hasn't had the years of practice I've had.
No, I think controlling his body and letting him watch helplessly as the
city he protects turns into something out of Caligula's greatest dreams will
satisfy me.  Then again maybe even that won't.  Ah but it will be fun while
it lasts."

"This is your idea of a game?"

"Well, yes.  But it's the end of the 20th century.  The game always has to
fit with the mood of the times."

"Release the Preacher's soul.  And then release the innocent bystanders from
this dark spell you have over them."

"Mighty demanding aren't we?  As for releasing them, I already have.  I've
freed them from the shackles called responsibility.  As for the Preacher, he
could stop me if he had faith in himself.  Alas, he doesn't.  I'm also the
only thing keeping the Preacher alive.  If I go he goes.  Kind of a Dilemma,
isn't it Ultimate Savior?"

"I think you underestimate the Preacher's faith.  I think I see cracks in
your Citadel of Sin.  Now release the Preacher, or I'll.."

"Or you'll what?  At the rate you're aging, the only thing you'll be doing
soon is losing control of your bladder.  Please, look at yourself.  You need
more help than the Preacher does.  Your teammates have betrayed you.  You
believe the fake identity you carved for yourself is actually your own.  You
believe you actually can save the world with that silly halo -- oops I mean
"Holy" Hoop you carry around.  And in a week or so you'll probably be in the
obituaries.  Your entire life is a lie.  You need to stop worrying about
others and start worrying about yourself."

"How do you -- how do you know..?"

"I've been around.  I can save you Jesse and give you your youth back.  I
can give the Preacher his soul back.  I can make you the greatest hero there
ever was.  I can help you save the world.  I can give you all these things.
But if I do that, you'll need to remember who you owe it all to.  But that's
not asking much is it?  You Dig it?"

The Ultimate Savior hovering over the city of Net.ropolis and thought long
and hard about the deal Ole Scratch was offering.  The only sound was that
of the rioting in the streets.  The crackling flame.  The shattering of
glass.  The Ultimate Savior finally shook his head.  "No, I don't need your
help, Ole Scratch.  All these things you say you can help with, can be
accomplished without your help.  And they will be."

For the first time since they had met there was a frown on Ole Scratch's
face.  And perhaps even a little fear.  "Perhaps they will be, child.  But
if they do happen, it will be over your desecrated gravesite."  Out of
Scratch's fingers came ten black bolts.  The Ultimate Savior barely managed
to deflect the bolts with his "Holy" Hoop.  The fight had begun.

The innocent bystanders for just a moment woke up from their mad, confused
dream and looked up.  They noticed for just a moment a large titanic fight
that was taking place.  A fight so big that the reality near it seemed to
warp some.  And then they fell back into the dream returning back to their
rioting.  A dream of absolute freedom.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

Coffee and Net.ropolis

Two adults sat at a table outside a Startup.Bucks drinking coffee.  One of
them was an older than middle-aged man with a scholarly face.  His name was
Dr. Vincent Stomper.  He was one of the founding members of the current
incarnation of the LNH and considered one of best minds in the Looniverse.
Seated across of him was a woman in her late twenties in a white lab coat
with short dark hair.  Her name was Dr. Vivian Net.ropolis.  She was a
member of the Saviors of the NET and considered in some circles to be even a
greater mind than Dr. Stomper.

"Something wrong with your coffee, Dr. Stomper?"

"Hmm?  Oh -- no, no.  It's just -- I'm so used to the coffee in the LNH
cafeteria that it's been awhile since I've drank something that probably
won't conquer the world if you don't drink it quickly enough.  I guess what
I'd really like to know though is why you set this meeting up in the first
place.  I mean the last time I remember seeing you, you were storming out of
my class room calling me a doddering old fool who was stuck in the Dark Age
of pseudo-science."

An embarrassed smile broke from Dr. Net.ropolis's lips, "I was really an
immature brat back then, wasn't I.  Well that's one of the reasons I
arranged this meeting.  I've been wanting to apologize for that for years,
but haven't until now had the courage.  What can I say?  You were my idol
when I was a kid.  I remember reading your essays on continuity that you had
written in the Pseudo-Science journals in grade school.  You were the reason
I went into Continuity Science and also went to the Super Pseudo-Science
Institute.  When I met you I was expecting, I don't know -- a science god,
or someone that could answer every question I ever had.  But you were human
-- just human like everyone else.  Capable of making errors and you didn't
know everything.  It's a sorry excuse, I know, but it's all that I have.
There hasn't been a day that goes by that I haven't wished that I could
retake that class.  I know I'd be a better scientist for it.  Can you ever
forgive me?"

"Vivian, I've been attacked by super villains.  I've been retconned by out
of control writers.  I've had people blow up the place where I work.
Believe me, calling me a doddering old fool is not something I would hold a
grudge against.  In fact that little speech of yours did shake me up enough
to rethink my approach to Pseudo-Science, so it wasn't entirely a bad thing.
I forgive you."

"I must have been your worst student ever."

"Hardly.  At least you paid attention in class.  No, my worst would be this
kid I flunked once.  He never quite forgave me for it and became a
super-villain called humorously enough Dr. F.  Fortunately for me, he was as
good a super-villain as he was a student.  He usually attacks me once a
year.  And I usually defeat him fairly easily."

A laugh broke from Dr. Net.ropolis's mouth.  "Christ.  You're right.  He
does sound worse than me."

The smile on Dr. Stomper's face turned grave.

"Vivian.  What is this Saviors of the NET nonsense you've gotten yourself
into?  What are you trying to accomplish?"

"*Sigh*.  Well I knew we'd eventually get into that.  We're trying to save
the world.  The Looniverse.  The Net.  And everything else.  It's just that
simple."

"I'd really like to believe that, but if so why the propaganda attacks on
the LNH?"

"I had nothing to do with that.  And if it had been up to me, they would
have never taken place.  We needed the popularity.  The Lava Lamp thought
that by slinging some mud at the LNH we could enhance our own image.  And
what do you know, it worked."

"Charming person this Lava Lamp."

"Well, I think he was turned down by the LNH and never forgave you people.
Not much of an excuse I know, but the end justifies the means."

"It does?"

"Well, if the end in question is saving the world?  Yes, I'd say it does."

"This brings me to my next question.  How are you planning to save the
world?  Putting a Savior of the NET mug in every house?"

"No."  Dr. Net.ropolis smiled, "It's a lot more complex than that.  Several
years back I was doing fieldwork for the Mr. Paprika Corp. in Omaha.  I'm
sure you've heard of the Omaha Project?"

"Yes.  It's not something that the LNH likes to talk about."

"Well, I left before all the spham hit the fan, so to say.  Most of the work
I did was morally questionable, but it paid the rent.  Getting back to my
point though, was that while I was there I was feeling suicidal.  I was
wasting my genius so I could make some corporation that was too rich to
begin with, even richer.  I told myself it was only temporary.  That once I
got enough money for myself, I could finance my own lab.  Some how though
the money was never enough.  And the energy source that was the purpose for
the Omaha Project -- I had to know its purpose.  Each day I sunk deeper into
depression, until one day I decided to find out what would happen if I threw
myself into the energy source.  And I did one night."

"It was the world above me.  The world below me.  It was everything.  And
nothing.  I saw the reason why our world was so flawed.  It's the writers
that are flawed.  They can't help but write our world as flawed."

"Well, yes -- the writers have always been our biggest problem.  But there's
nothing that really can be done about that.  If the writers go, so do we.
There's really no solution to that."

"Yes -- there is Dr. Stomper.  Replace the writers with a perfect writer.  A
benevolent writer."

"Good luck finding such a being."

"I don't need to find one.  I've created one."

Dr. Stomper sprayed coffee out of his mouth, and started to hack.

"Are you all right?"

"*Hrrkk* Yes. *Uhkk uhkk* excuse me.  For some reason I thought you said you
had created a writer."

"I have.  It isn't operational, yet.  There are some things I need to fine
tune.  But theoretically -- it should work.  I call it the Mechanical
Author."

"I'm not quite -- I'm not quite sure what to say.  Part of me wants to think
you're mad or joking.  You can't be serious.  You're going to separate us
from the writers and then you're going to have something that "theoretically
works" rewrite reality to create a perfect world.  Please -- tell me you're
joking."

"I'm not.  Doctor.  And it will work.  I spent a year designing this thing.
I've gone through all the possibilities."

"All of them?  I find that hard to believe.  Using your own logic, you're
flawed so your "Mechanical Author" will also be flawed."

"No, that's twisting my logic.  The writers write our reality as flawed
because they choose to, and that is their flaw.  I have flaws, I know that.
But, I chose to create a perfect writer without my flaws or any other flaws.
And I have."

"And what will be in this perfect world?"

"There will be no pain, no ignorance, no limitations.  We will all be gods."

"You've already contradicted yourself.  No pain or ignorance, These are
limitations."

"I don't really see it that way, Dr. Stomper.  But so what if they are.  The
world will be better with out them."

"Possibly.  Although I wonder if a world without pain would also be a world
without feeling.  It doesn't matter.  One person shouldn't be making these
decisions.  That's why this is wrong.  I'm sorry, Vivian, but I'm going to
have to stop you."  Dr. Stomper quickly took out his communication.thingee.

"I wouldn't bother, Dr. Stomper.  It's dead.  As is everything electronic
within a mile of this point.  Except for this," she said pulling out a weird
looking gun from one of her pockets.  "Don't worry.  This will only knock
you unconscious for a few minutes, and completely erase any memory of this
conversation."

"Vivian -- don't do this."  But, it was too late.  Dr. Net.ropolis clicked
the trigger and Dr. Stomper slumped on the table.  His coffee mug shattered
when it hit the floor.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Stomper.  I really am.  I thought of all people, you would
understand.  The world will be better.  I know it will be."

"You want to know the purpose of the Saviors of the NET, Dr. Stomper?  Not
even the Saviors know what it is.  It's to keep the LNH occupied so they
don't stop me from saving the world.  It's that simple.  And what do you
know, it's working."

She pondered for a moment one of Dr. Stomper's statements.  Would a world
without pain be a world without feeling?  No, unnecessary dualism, she
reassured herself.

She looked at the streets as the innocent bystanders started to panic and
riot.  She looked at the sky and noticed strange colors emerging.

Everything was going perfectly according to plan.

"It will be a better world.  I know it will be.  It has to be."

She took another mechanical object out of pocket, clicked a button, and
vanished in a shower of sparks.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

Hailing a Taxi

The Very Disturbed Scary Creature Man watched a TV in front of a store
window.  It had been a hard day of beating and scaring the hell out of the
lowlifes and scum in the street -- and well, as much as he enjoyed it, he
needed a break.  He noticed on the screen that a bunch of super humans were
fighting which wasn't all that unusual.  What did grab his attention was
that one of them was the kid.  They were taking the kid down.  Those dirty
government Fed secret LNH agent media black op Feds were taking the kid
down.  It was always the Feds.

It had been the Feds that had brainwashed his ex-wife and dog.  It had been
the Feds that had made the Bills always lose the Super Bowl.  It had been
the Feds that had surgically attached this costume to his body at one of
their IRS concentration camp conventions.  Well, now that he thought about
it, it had been him that had surgically attached the suit to himself with a
needle and some fishing line.  But it did sound like something the Feds were
capable of.

And now they were crucifying the kid on live Television.  He sighed to
himself.  Before he had met the kid, he was just some crazy guy that liked
to run around in dark alleys and scare people.  But the kid had changed
that.  The kid had seen something in him that no one else did.  Now days he
was a crazy guy that liked to run around in dark alleys and scare people --
with -- A Purpose.  He had a choice.  He could stay here and watch the
assassination, or -- he could go down with the kid.

He made his choice.

He saw a taxi coming straight towards him.  He had a choice.  He could
whistle for it, or -- he could fly through the front windshield.

Very Disturbed Scary Creature Man had always preferred the sound of
shattered glass to that of whistles.  And when it came to choices, he always
chose the most absurdly dangerous one.  It hadn't let him down yet.

VDSCM looked at the scared witless Cab Driver and with a very disturbed
smile on his lips and a very guttural voice, he whispered, "folllowww, the
viiicee."

"don't worry kid.  the cavalry is coming."

The cab driver slammed the gas pedal and started screaming.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

And Sometimes -- You Get What You Want

The raccoon noticed that the sky had changed somewhat.  The sky was a
shattered rainbow of color.  Had he done that?  Probably.  It made sense.
Why should the sky be just one color?  Yes, the crackling streaks of color
sparkling like fireworks, was a very nice touch.  Satisfied, the Raccoon
vanished to another place.

And there was a kid eating an ice cream cone.  Every time he'd finish it, it
would return.  And every time it returned, he'd eat it.  The kid had a vague
sense that something was wrong.  A vague sense that he had already eaten the
ice cream cone.  A vague sense that he was caught in some kind of time loop
that there was no escape from.  There was a vague sense of horror that this
was all that there would ever be.  Nothing better.  Nothing worse.  He would
never grow up.  He would never have a job.  Never get married, or have kids.
This would be all he would ever have.  An ice cream cone.  He wanted to
throw the ice cream cone to the ground, and escape.  But, he couldn't.  He
had to eat it.  An ice cream cone stuck between Heaven and Hell.  Unable to
rise.  Or fall.

And the kid learned something about life.  *Sometimes* it's better *not* to
get what you want.

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *
* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

NEXT:  The Saviors vs Retcon RACCoon, The Ultimate Savior vs The Ultimate
Sinner, The LNH vs Innocent Bystanders, VDSC Man vs the LNH (Hey if Grant
Morrison were writing, you know he'd have a chance), and Dr. Net.ropolis vs
..umm well no one at the moment.  All this and more in the stunning seventh
chapter written by someone who is not me!!!!

Or maybe not...

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

Credits:

Three Annoying Little Sisters and Nudist Man are Tom Russell's

Ultimate Ninja, Deductive Logic Man, Self-Righteous Preacher, Renegade
Programmer are wReam's

Kid Recap is Joshua Geurink's

Multi-Tasking Man is Jeff Coleburn's

Everyone else is either mine or someone else's

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

Writer's Notes:

First off I'd like to thank the people participating in this Crossover.  Sam
Vimes, Steven Howard, Tom Russell Jnr., and Saxon Brenton (Even if he did
feel the need to defile the word Savior with a 'u'.  But, hey, he's a wacky
foreigner, so I won't hold it against him.)  I was somewhat afraid when I
first posted #1 that it would be a 'what if some one posted a Crossover and
no one came' kind of thing.  Thankfully though it wasn't.  So once again I
thank you.

As far as Ole Scratch goes do anything with him you want.  He's kind of part
aging Hipster and Prince of Darkness last seen in Jong #4.

As far as the video tape with the alternate Preacher you can find more about
that in Paul Hardy's Legion of Occult Heroes series, which if you haven't
read yet, you should just because it's a damn good series.  It was the only
thing I thought might crack at the Preacher's faith.

As far as the Omaha Project stuff, well you can read the Omaha Project
maxi-series if you want to find out more about all that.  It probably won't
help.  But there is some good stuff in that series at least at the
beginning.

That's all I can think of to say...

* *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** **** *** ** *** *

=========
NEXT TIME: Saviors of the Net #2Pi:   "6.2831852 + Alt Lord"
           by Tom Russell             Equals Big Trouble for the LNH
=========