LNH: 58.5 #10 Supersized Special!
Lalo Martins
lalo.martins at gmail.com
Sat Sep 29 08:28:26 PDT 2007
Evening in alt.fan.bugtown. Cannon Fodder was sitting by the
edge of a large blast crater, Big Gun on his knees, staring at a
burned corpse. Just half an hour ago, the corpse had been a
pile of ashes. Fodder was waiting for it to raise back to life,
taking his time to meditate about his own issues, and how odd it
felt to have been the only one in his group *NOT* to die in a
battle. Minutes flew by, and he watched as skin started
reforming around the burned tissue, then a navy-blue business
suit. Then Terry got up, a hand on his head as if he had a big
headache. Which he probably did.
"Ooooh. I must say I don't like dying very much. I don't know
how you can do this almost every day."
"Hey! It's not that much!"
"Yet..." He walked -- rather, stumbled -- to his friend's side,
and sat next to him.
"Yeah, I know. Took me a while to get used to it. But not
completely... I guess you never really get over the idea."
"This is weird. How does it feel for you to be here? I mean,
where everyone can do what you do. Must feel like home."
"Home? Nah. In fact, I feel very uncomfortable. As if there's
a second shoe about to drop any minute... probably on my head."
On that cue, a beautiful brunette girl turned the corner, and
stopped in shock, staring at the crater. She had her hair done
like Lois Lane in the 50's, a tiny but thick white jacket with
pompoms dangling from the collar, a red mini-skirt, and white
boots ending just below the knees.
"Oh! Godd!"
"Yeah", said Fodder. "Not pretty, is it?"
"Godd", she said, walking up to them. And then they realized
she wasn't looking at the crater, but at him. "Is that really
you? I can't believe it!"
"Er... what?"
She hesitated, then threw herself in his arms. "Oh, Godd, it's
so good to see you! Where have you been? It's been... years!"
"Er... what?" He awkwardly broke free of the embrace and looked
her in the eyes. "What's going on? Who are you?"
"You don't know who I am?" She seemed confused. "Maybe you
just look like him? But no, you have that scar I remember near
your ear, and the same flaw in your eyebrows. That would be too
much coincidence."
"Wait, wait. You mean you know me?"
"Godd, you're scaring me."
"Will you stop saying 'God' every few words? Pretty please?"
"God? No. You really don't know, do you? Who you are?"
He looked at her in confusion, and a hint of fear. Could it be
she was actually a piece of his missing past? And should he
admit the possibility? What if she was trouble?
Terry robbed him of the choice. "My friend only remembers his
life for the last few years. If you say you haven't seen this
person in years, then it's quite possible it's really him."
"Amnesia?" She didn't sound too sure. "What do you call
yourself, then?"
"Cannon Fodder", Terry said, helpfully, before a mean glance
from his friend told him to please shut the scrad up.
"Hmm. Not total amnesia, then. And yes, I guess you're really
him. You, I mean. You're really you. Oh, Godd, this is
amazing! I can't believe it!"
"There you go with 'God' again..."
"No. Not 'God'. It's your name. Godd Fodder. Two D's."
He blinked a few times. "Godd Fodder. Yes. Yes it is. It
feels right. In a hazy, blurry kind of way..."
"And who would you be?", Terry asked.
"I used to be his brother's girlfriend. My name is Clara.
Clara Lee-Trobbo. But then Bobb was killed... permanently
killed, outside alt.fan.bugtown. I think we both got a little
unhinged by that. And that's the last I've seen of you."
"Bobb. I almost remember it. By... the Crosspost Brothers?"
"Yes!"
He looked up to the sky. "I have this bitter taste of
uncompleted revenge in the back of my mouth. Maybe if I go
after these guys I can get my memory back?"
"That would be hard", she said. "They were also killed
permanently, a while ago. By these queerly-dressed dudes,
called themselves the 'Xinerama Brotherhood'."
"What a small multiverse", Terry muttered.
=============================-=============================
Who Cares Studios truly, madly, deeply presents...
__________ ______
/ ____( __ ) / ____/
/___ \/ __ | /___ \
____/ / /_/ / ____/ /
/_____/\____(_)_____/
#10
But When You Talk About Destruction
by Lalo Martins,
Saxon Brenton (scene 5),
Dave Van Domelen (bonus feature)
Starring:
Godd Fodder Cannon Fodder wReam's (special
thanks to Dvandom)
Terry Kid-Not-Appearing-In- Saxon Brenton's
Any-Beige-Midnight-Story
Clara Lee-Trobbo mine
Kiwi Kiwii Kiwi "The fighting kiwi" mine
Bonnie Chique Bandwagon Chick Sue Clark's
Trey M. B. Gantt Triangle Lad mine
Joe Forsythe Retcon Lad Saxon Brenton's
Pulls-Paper-Out-of-Hats Lad Arthur Spitzer's
Fourth Wall Lass Saxon Brenton's
wReamHack wReam's
WikiBoy Tom Russel's
Invisible-Intangible-Inaudible Lass Jamie Rosen's
The Geekobots (mine):
Nerdicus Supreme TARDIS Doctor Who
Dar'hnitron Batmobile DC Comics
Boldly The USS Enterprise Star Trek
Battlesun The Battlestar Galactica Battlestar Galactica
Prey The Millenium Falcon Star Wars
Van'kesh Ha'tak mothership Stargate
Vesper The White Star Babylon 5
The original vehicles the Geekobots are modeled after are
copyright and in some cases trademark of their respective
creators. They are referenced in the story without permission,
in the context of satire, and that use does not constitute a
challenge to the respective copyrights or trademarks. They
should not be construed as in any way belonging or relating to
the fictional universes in which the vehicles originally appear;
the Geekobots chose forms based on pop culture.
The Yuppicons (mine):
Jetset Jet plane
Beemer Luxury car
Rolektron Gold watch
Premiumlatte Espresso machine (with paper cup)
Powerpowder Cocaine kit
Eykee Various furniture items
Platinex Credit card
Looksharp Power suit
http://lalo.hystericalraisins.net/lnh/
=============================-=============================
"Is this it?", asked Nerdicus Supreme.
"This is what all the tracks point to", Van'kesh answered.
The Geekobots, Bonnie, Triangle Lad, and the Kiwi were standing
in a field, south of Net.ropolis, looking at a large building,
an old, abandoned power station. Appropriately enough, it was
active during the 80's, and got abandoned after sustaining heavy
damage during a fight between the Time Crapper and the LNH, in
the early years. It was the night of April 144th.
"You said the same before", said Bonnie. "We've been following
those tracks for a month. Well, what would normally be a month,
if we still had months."
Van'kesh was too proud to be apologetic, but he still replied
with uncharacteristic humility. "This Time Crapper is really
good at covering tracks. I never had to deal with
time-traveling net.ahumans before."
"I'd have thought your leader has some time-travel experience?"
"Me? Why?", asked Nerdicus Supreme.
"Well, the form you disguise into is a time machine."
The Geekobot laughed. "That it is. But the fact doesn't help
me. No, I picked this form because that 'Doctor' character
struck me as smart and resourceful. Van'kesh picked his
disguise because he thought it would be scary. Prey, because
it's renowned to be fast."
"I see. What about Boldly?"
"Oh, don't mind him. He's a total geek."
"Live long and prosper", said the other robot.
"Don't fret", the Kiwi told Van'kesh. "You're good, we know.
If it took you a month to find them, then it's quite possible it
would have been impossible for almost anyone else."
"Assuming we did find them", said Battlesun.
"We will know soon enough", Van'kesh said, preparing his weapons.
"So that's the plan?", asked Triangle Lad. "We just blaze in?"
"They had one month", said Prey. "We have to assume they're
about ready to launch their attack. Their plan has probably
been already set in motion in minor ways."
"Still", said Dar'hnitron. "I'd suggest the humans go in first,
take advantage of their smaller size to get the lay of the
terrain. If trouble starts, we follow."
"When, you mean", said the Kiwi.
"When, then."
"And 'the humans'? I'll have you know..."
"This is not the time or place", interrupted Nerdicus Supreme.
"You have your friends to rescue, we have a world to save."
And a few minutes later, the three were quietly walking into the
power station.
"It looks quiet and empty", Bonnie said. "Another dead end?"
"Just rubble and garbage. There's nothing here", said Triangle
Lad. "I think--"
"Ssh", made the Kiwi. "Yes, this room is only garbage. But the
place is huge. Let's take a better look before we jump to
conclusions."
"Whatever", said Triangle Lad, kicking a pile of garbage.
And a bunch of cloth in the pile started folding and unfolding
itself, growing, changing shape, until it filled a large portion
of the room. A similar thing happened to a small piece of
plastic near Bonnie's feet.
"Looksharp!", exclaimed the Kiwi.
"And Platinex", added Bonnie. The bird was already engaging
Looksharp, though, his well-placed attacks making little
effect. The plastic Yuppicon moved on Bonnie.
Triangle Lad. Triangle Lad. Triangle Lad hits Platinex. They
have a fight. Triangle wins. Triangle Lad.
=============================-=============================
Retcon Lad was sleeping in the sofa in the Leader's Room. He
had a late night, fighting some oddball villain with a
Tsk.force. And he was having fitful dreams. Those dreams got
interrupted by Pulls-Paper-Out-of-Hats Lad, gently shaking him,
a mug of coffee in the other hand. He got up slowly, and
accepted the coffee. Then he noticed there were a few other
Legionnaires in the room.
"Meh. Good morning."
"Good Morning", said PPOOH Lad. "Hope you slept well?"
"Enough, I guess. What's up?"
"Just reporting the morning news."
"Lovely. What are they?"
"You're the leader of the LNH today."
"Oh. Awesome. Just what I needed."
"And..." the boy seemed a bit embarrassed.
"What? Wild party throughout the night again?"
"Oh no, nothing like that."
"Then?"
"We have about ten giant robots fighting in Net.ropolis."
Retcon Lad finished the last half of his coffee in one gulp. He
felt he was going to need it.
=============================-=============================
Indeed, the fight between the Geekobots and Yuppicons had
reached the city, and was raging through the busy streets.
Now, another author would try to describe the details of the
battle. I, however, am too lazy. Er, I mean. I believe it's
best left to imagination, and words can scarcely convey the
mayhem and carnage and property damage and fast-paced combat as
those amazing creatures pitted themselves against each other.
Yeah, that's what I meant. <.<
"Shut up and tell the story", yelled Fourth Wall Lass, from the
window of the LNHQ.
Sorry.
"What did I just say?"
It's just that... battles between giant robots are really
exciting if you can see them. Describing them in words?
Boring. Very boring.
"Whatever, man. There must be _SOMETHING_ going on somewhere in
the fight that you want to tell the readers about."
Meanwhile, in the heavily damaged Fan.way Park (Home of the
Net.ropolis Ninja Baseball Team, Southeast of Drayer Park),
Bandwagon Chick, the Kiwi, and Triangle Lad were busy playing a
board game.
"Are you sure we wouldn't be helping?", asked the Kiwi.
"What", asked Bonnie. "You want to try kicking Powerpowder?
The bird shuddered.
"And I already had my fight in this battle", said Triangle Lad.
"You did good. But that was long ago, and Platinex already
recovered."
"Maybe we should be looking for our friends, then", the Kiwi
tried.
"We searched the power plant after the Yuppicons left, and found
nothing. We need Van'kesh's help. And besides, the three of us
would probably not be able to face the Time Crapper and Mother
Time together. It took a much more powerful LNH group to defeat
each one of them individually... together, it's just too much."
"So we wait for the battle to end, and get the Geekobots to help
us. Nerdicus Supreme promised they would."
"We could at least watch the fighting."
"We tried", Bonnie reminded him. "They move too fast for us."
"Whatever", said the Kiwi. "Trade brick for lumber anyone?"
=============================-=============================
"All right, I think I have this figured out", said Retcon Lad,
closing the pile of reports he had on the Geekobots and
Yuppicons. "Our greatest problem is that they're too evenly
matched. The Geekobots won last time by having Triangle Lad's
father face Jetset in the beginning of the battle, which left
the Yuppicons leaderless. They won't fall for it a second time,
I'm sure. So we need to tip the balance."
"With what?", asked wReamHack.
"That's the question, isn't it? I need to send someone who will
actually be able to help, and not get in the way of the
Geekobots. It's a delicate choice."
The assembled LNH (what remained of it, after 145 days of
members disappearing) listened eagerly.
"I'll send Contraption Man, of course. According to Bonnie, one
of the missing New Misfits is your future sidekick, so you may
also have an extra motivation. And the robot duplicates of
Doctor Stomper and Irony Man."
"Er", asked WikiBoy. "Are you sure that's wise?"
"Sure? No. But it's our best option. And I want to test if
being a robot will give them some kind of advantage fighting
robots. What could go wrong? These duplicates were built to be
loyal, I'm sure we can trust them."
"Well..."
"And you", he said, still looking at WikiBoy, "will lead the
team, seeing as you're our resident expert in fighting giant,
non-organic life forms, and besides you have the power to grow
very big yourself."
The Legionnaire That Anyone Can Edit blinked a few times,
accepting the edits. "All right."
"Dude", said RosterwReam. "Why don't you just go yourself, and
retcon the whole debacle out of existence?"
"It's not that easy to mess with reality, RosterwReam. No, I
don't think my day as leader will be one of deus ex machina. If
anything, it will be one of understanding the responsibility of
power. The damage--"
"Whatever, man", the other man shrugged. "I still think you
could just--"
"Meeting adjourned", the leader said, and left the room.
=============================-=============================
Retcon Lad was looking for Fourth Wall Lass and found her
talking with someone that he couldn't see.
Now, in the old days if you saw a lone person talking by
themselves this was usually a good indication that they were off
their medication. But since the advent of hands free mobile
phones it was also possible that - while the speaker might still
be mentally unhinged - they could nevertheless be actually
talking with a flesh and blood person somewhere.
Then there were various members of the Legion of Net.Heroes, who
might be talking with a miniaturised compatriot sitting on their
shoulder, or with someone who was invisible, or perhaps having a
telepathic conversation but forgetting that they didn't need to
vocalise. But Retcon Lad knew that if it was Fourth Wall Lass
or Curious Lass having a seemingly one sided conversation that
maybe they were just chatting with
Invisible-Intangible-Inaudible Lass.
"Hey there, everybody," he said.
*Hello,* said IIILass.
"Hi there," replied Fourth Wall Lass. "And Invisible-Intangible-
Inaudible Lass says hello."
"As I knew she would," he said gallantly, sketching a bow in the
general direction that Fourth Wall Lass had been looking to read
IIILass's word balloons.
*I'll leave you two. I'll see you later, Terri.*
"Sure thing," said FWL. She caught Retcon Lad's quizzical look
and said, "She says that you remind her of Kyle Rayner, because
you have a really cute butt."
*Hey!* protested IIILass with a laugh.
"Just kidding." Then she turned back to RLad. "So, what's up?"
"I wanted to ask you how you were going after using the Rung Of
Revamp."
"Bleah! I think I did something really stupid," she said,
remonstrating herself. She paused. "Actually, I think I was
made to do something really stupid."
"Say what?"
"How did you discover that you could retcon yourself back to
life if you were killed?"
"I made an appearance in _Kid Kiwi's Kommandoes_ #5, and our
Writer decided to run with a gag that Descrii used. Hold up,
you mean... Aw man, not again!"
"Mmm-hmm. The Rung Of Revamp thing was revealed in _LNH Comics
Presents_ #98, and that was written by Rob Rogers. And since
the _Limp-Asparagus Lad_ series is running way too far behind in
continuity to be able to make topical comments about what the
other LNH Writers are up to in the 'present', even what we're
doing now is appearing in _58.5_."
Retcon Lad looked up and checked out the posting header. "Oh
yeah."
"Anyway. I used the Rung to increase my powers so I could
better gather info on what's causing the Infinite Leadership
Crisis. Bad move. That plan blew up in my face. I suggest you
don't try anything like it."
He nodded. "Good advice. I'm so glad that I'd already followed
it."
"Creep."
"Hey, I've got enough problems with having insanely high level
superpowers capable of blowing a hole in the fabric of the
universe if I'm not careful."
"Yeah, well, now I do too," Fourth Wall Lass snarked.
Retcon Lad's joking mood evaporated. He took a chair, reversed
it, and sat down backwards on it. "You want help with that,
then?"
Fourth Wall Lass shot him a grateful look. Most of the time he
came across as a fanboy goofball, but every now and then she was
reminded about just how he cared about people. "That would be
great."
He nodded matter-of-factly. "Okay. I'd suggest doing what I
did for myself, and tweaking the powers so that the really bad
things don't happen unless you deliberately activate it..."
"As a deus ex machinae to be unleashed at an appropriately
dramatic moment in a story," she agreed.
"Er... Yeah. Anyway, let's focus on what we can do something
about you powers. Just as a general rule of thumb, *how* have
your powers become so dangerous?"
She opened her mouth to explain, then closed it. She frowned,
and admitted, "It's metatextual."
He rolled his eyes. "Of *course* it is," he said, earning a
stern look. He leaned forward and said, "Look, if it's too
difficult to explain the mechanics, how about the results?"
"I could open a hole into Real Life."
Retcon Lad looked surprised. "Real Life -1, surely. Fictional
character can't get into Real Life. Every time we try..."
"Every time we try, there's a dimensional divergence that leaves
us in somewhere that is as close to Real Life as possible
without actually being Real Life. Yeah, that's it. [As shown
in _Dvandom Force_ #42 - Footnote Girl] And do you know why that
happens?"
He looked confused. "Protection of Real Life's integrity?" he
guessed.
Fourth Wall Lass shook her head. "You've got it around the
wrong way. It's for *our* protection. Real Life is a more
intense reality than fiction. Not in the way we'd normally
think of, in terms of intensity of experience from drama and
excitement. It's stronger. There's more of it. It...," she
groped for terms. "Technically it has a higher reality quotient
than anything we have, or could ever hope to have. What that
means in practise is that anything fictional that made it into
Real Life would be instantly obliterated like a leaf a blast
furnace." She sighed. "And the same thing would happen if Real
Life leaked through into our world, or any of the other
fictional universes. Open a big enough hole and the damage done
to the fabric of space-time would expand faster than our reality
could heal itself. Eventually the whole universe would unravel
and dissipate."
Retcon Lad rubbed his face, overwhelmed by the thought. In his
mind's eye he could see an expanding patch of nothingness - not
emptiness, since emptiness can be filled again, but a true
absence of both space and time - expanding at a vast hyper-light
velocity and picking speed, swallowing up solar system,
galaxies, and then entire galactic clusters. "Crap."
"What's wrong?"
Retcon Lad faltered and actually looked slightly embarrassed.
"Well..." he extemporised. "You know, at some point we might
want to think about having kids. And it'd kind of suck to have
them inheriting superpowers that can blow a hole in the universe
from *both* parents."
"My powers are actually skills," she pointed out. "Arcane
secrets originally taught by alien comic books artists who snuck
across the fourth wall, remember?"
Retcon Lad waved his hand dismissively. "Feh. It doesn't
matter whether your powers come from biology, mystical
empowerment, or skills. If they can go towards you being
counted as a superhero, then they can be inherited by Lamarkian
or even Sheldrakian means."
"Oh, yeah. That's right."
Retcon Lad got up off the chair and stalked about. "I don't
think this is such a big problem."
"Destroying the universe isn't a problem?"
"Destroying the universe is a very big problem. Putting fail
safes on the trigger that would destroy the universe is not a
problem," he clarified. He looked at her in mild exasperation.
"It doesn't sound like this is a complicated multi-factorial
equation. Don't stress. I'm sure we can work this out. We are
not doomed yet."
[this scene by Saxon Brenton -- thanks!]
=============================-=============================
And back in alt.fan.bugtown, Terry, Godd, and Clara were having
drinks in a seedy bar. Or rather, Godd and Clara were. Terry
had ordered five different drinks that didn't sound alcoholic,
one after the other, before finally giving up. It seemed even
mineral water was alcoholic in alt.fan.bugtown, or at least
mildly radioactive.
"So even when you're away, your body acts as if you're still
here, in alt.fan.bugtown", said Clara. "I wonder how that could
happen. It's an interesting power to have."
"The coming back part is interesting. The part where I attract
violence, not so much."
"Maybe. But it's still consistent with the idea that you are
somehow linked to this plane."
"Maybe it's just a natural mutation", offered Terry, "and you
guys never noticed before because he didn't go elsewhere?"
"Can't be", said Clara. "He's not native of a.f.b."
"I'm not?"
"No", she laughed. "You really don't remember? You and Bobb
emigrated after your parents died, hoping to make some money in
JPEG Bay with your scientific knowledge."
"I have scientific knowledge?"
"Sure. You were born in sci.physics.plutonium."
Godd and Terry looked at each other. "Where have I heard that
before?", Godd asked.
"Maybe it's your memory coming back?", said Clara, hopeful.
"No", said Terry. "The Xinerama Brother you met before claimed
to be from that newsgroup. That would probably be why he picked
you as his, er, champion."
"Or it could be because you're linked to a.f.b."
"I guess we'll never know", Godd said.
"We could", she said, a somewhat dreamy look in her eyes.
"Maybe. I don't know if they would let me anywhere near them,
but maybe they'll be intrigued by your case. We should try."
"Er. Try what?"
"I think I know just who can figure you out. The Existents."
"The Existents?", asked Terry. "Isn't that a West Coast band
from the Looniverse? Cannon, I mean Godd, has a lot of their
albums and stuff."
"They probably are. They are pan-reality beings, and in most
planes they are a band. They're also some kind of very powerful
musical wizards. They'll know what this is about. You probably
bought their albums out of a fragment of memory, knowing
instinctively that they could help you."
"Why not", he said. "Let's go see the Existents."
=============================-=============================
Bonus feature: The Origin of Cannon Fodder v2.0
From: dvandom at ... (Dave Van Domelen)
Newsgroups: alt.comics.lnh,alt.fan.bugtown
Subject: The Origin of Cannon Fodder v2.0
Date: 4 Mar 1994 02:21:15 GMT
Note to the bugtowners, just scream loudly or fire in my direction if
you see a
glaring problem with some of the alt.versions of Bugtown types I use.
Having
only read a few issues of Post and Savage Henry (plus the newsgroup)
I'm
missing alot of details.
Dave Van Domelen, now if Mark'll just write another Crosspost
Brothers
story....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The New and Improved Origin of CANNON FODDER copyright 1994 Dave Van
Domelen
published by Coherent Comics UnInc for the LNH in general
The Crosspost Brothers created by Mark Friedman from an idea of
mine
Alt.fan.bugtown is certainly copyright somebody sometime
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alt.fan.bugtown is a PluReality fairly far removed from just
about any
other, and that's how the other PluRealities prefer it. Safer that
way. It
comprises an infinite cityscape of unknown (and perhaps unknowable)
origin,
parts of which are inhabited, some of which aren't, and some which
shouldn't be
but are because the rent is lower there. Despite its size, it gets
little
attention from the outside, who invariably prefer to spend their time
in the
less...wild PluRealities, such as the RAC* Hierarchy of
PluRealities.
Occasional bursts of activity make it known to the outside, but
frankly also
make outsiders more willing to forget them after the outburst is over.
Alt.fan.bugtown is not a pleasant place to visit, although it can
be a
pretty wild place to live. It counts among its residents Big Alt, who
is
reputed to be in control of the constantly shifting and regenerating
place.
Whether such control is even possible casts this claim into doubt.
The place
has a few interesting characteristics which lure others to live there,
despite
its obvious problems (more on the two of them later). First off, you
can't die
in Alt.fan.bugtown. Or rather, you can't stay dead. Damage is healed
back
fairly quickly, although not always with 100% accuracy, so it's
important not
to die too many times. Secondly, the place is a natural
interdimensional
nexus, not just of net.realities but of all PluRealities. This makes
it a
natural place to conduct business between the universes. One major
such
business hub is JPEG Bay. Big Alt spends alot of time in JPEG Bay.
Unfortunately, so do the Crosspost Brothers, Jeff and Jon. Trust
me, the
less said about them, the less nightmares you'll have. As natives of
Alt.fan.bugtown, they have the native power of Crossposting, the
ability to
shift themselves across the net.realities at will. Their strong
wills, vivid
imaginations and utter sadism let them use this power to terrifying
effect, and
they are illegal in most realities...simply being them is a capital
offense.
Now, by this point in the narrative, you're wondering what the
scrad all
this has to do with Cannon Fodder, an inhabitant of the LNH Looniverse
and
member of that team. Simple. He used to be Godd Fodder, a resident
(but not
native) of JPEG Bay....
* * * *
Close, he was so close...if the latest modifications to his
equipment were
enough, he would soon be able to take revenge on those Obnoxious
Crosspost
Brothers for what they did to his brother Bobb. Sure, he was a
moderator, but
that didn't mean he deserved to die!
Most people were kinda glad the Crosspost Brothers went on that
rampage
[see some issue or another of Those Obnoxious Crosspost Brothers, I
don't feel
like looking it up - Ed.] and killed all but one moderator residing in
JPEG
Bay. And most moderators kinda deserved it, Godd supposed. But his
brother
didn't...Bobb was just a simple tax.group moderator, not some evil
corporate
moderator or sleazy binaries group moderator. Jon's cry of "Tax
this,
moderator!" when he...he.... Godd couldn't bring himself to think of
how Jon
killed Bobb...besides, it was far too lengthy for a simple flashback.
But now Godd was nearing his revenge. He'd found a theoretical
method for
not only giving a non-native such as himself (an immigrant from
sci.physics.
plutonium) crossposting abilities, but also how to block those
abilities in
others. And with this device, the Crosspost Brothers would be on
their way to
/dev/null by way of alt.pain.hurt.hurt.hurt. One final adjustment....
Then everything exploded. A sad fact of life in Alt.fan.bugtown
was that
random flames from elsewhere in the infinite city sometimes found
their way
into JPEG Bay. Most of the time they were merely a nuisance, since
everything
they destroyed would regenerate exactly as it had been, within a few
hundredths
of a percent tolerance, anyway. But this time, with all sorts of
bizarre
scientific equipment actively probing the nature of Alt.fan.bugtown,
it was
different.
Godd Fodder awoke a few minutes later, to find that although the
building
he had been working in had regenerated, the equipment hadn't. Had Big
Alt sent
the flame on purpose to halt the research? Or had he been noticed by
the
goddess Nagasaki? In either case, it was pretty likely that
Alt.fan.bugtown
was not a good place to continue the research. He had in his head
the
important bits of data, he could work elsewhere.
A few hours later, Godd had booked passage to a nascent little
alt.reality
on the fringes of the RAC* multiverse, a place called Alt.comics.LNH.
He felt
it would have the technical resources to allow him to continue his
pseudoscientific research in relative peace. He set up a new lab and
began
taking some readings, but found they indicated he was still in
Alt.fan.bugtown.
How could that be? Minutes later, he realized the answer: he had
internalized
the essence of the dimension during the explosion! He still couldn't
crosspost, although tests showed he should be able to. But when a
random act
of violence struck him down on the way to lunch the next day, he woke
up alive
in his lab! He was immortal! He couldn't be killed premanently
anywhere...
and furthermore he instinctively crossposted himself out of harm's way
once
he'd been killed! Still, without weapons or conscious control of his
crossposting ability, he still couldn't take his revenge. So he set
to work
again on his nullifier...only to find he'd lost that spark of
scientific
brilliance which had let him invent it in the first place. No! He'd
lost
resolution on that last death, lost a very important part of his mind!
Couldn't be helped, he realized. He'd have to find another way
to destroy
the Crosspost Brothers. Perhaps if he joined this new Legion of
Net.Heroes he
could get them to help him in his revenge? Still, he'd need a sort of
silly
hero codename to join, and a power he could display instead of
immortality.
Constructing several large energy weapons, he dubbed himself Cannon
and strode
confidently to the door of the LNHQ, to apply to the team as a
weaponsmaster
type hero.
Then, just as he rang the doorbell, a stray energy blast struck
him,
killing him instantly. He started to reform, but his Cannons had
fallen from
his grasp, and now they exploded, killing him again. Then a gout of
flame from
some invisible source fried him and he died again. Then he was struck
in the
face by some sort of boisenberry pie, choked on it and died. He could
feel his
mind withering under the effect of so many regenerations in such a
short time,
and realized too late he'd also taken on the essence of the random
violence in
Alt.fan.bugtown. He was a magnet for destructive energies, which he
was doomed
to regenerate from.
Finally someone answered the door. Godd stood shakily and tried
to
remember exactly who he was, and why he was here. "Um, I'm
Cannon...er,
Fodder? I think I'm here to...aaaaagh," he finished as he had a fatal
allergic
reaction to the cologne of the person answering the door.
Rebel Yell poked his head over the shoulder of the person at the
door.
"Um, I guess this Cannon Fodder wanted to join the LNH, eh Squid Boy?
Well, if
he revives, take him to the med.lab or something."
Squid Boy nodded and picked up the fallen form of this 'Cannon
Fodder'
person, taking him to be examined by Doctor Stomper.
* * * *
In time, the memory loss problem would stabilize, but not before
Cannon
Fodder had lost every last trace of his former memories. No one could
find any
records of his origin, but few really bothered, since he wasn't a WC
anyway.
So who is it that tells this tale? Ah, that's another story
altogether....
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