LNH: 58.5 #26

Lalo Martins lalo.martins at gmail.com
Fri Feb 15 20:10:24 PST 2008

Previously on 58.5:

Since the beginning of April, one LNHer (sometimes more) was
picked as leader, every day, and disappeared at midnight.  That
wouldn't be such a big deal, if it wasn't for the fact that
April has already lasted for 290 days.

A few weeks ago, the Looniearth was invaded by an alternate LNH
from the "Evilverse".  They defeated most of the remaining
members of the "real" LNH, and took over Net.ropolis.  President
Luthor then decided to seal the city in a force field.  The New
Misfits got stuck inside it, where they joined the Resistance,
which strangely enough, is led by the Crime Empire, which in
turn is led by Paraddox (formerly Weirdness Magnet) and Vector
Prime (a.k.a. the Melissa Virus).

The New Misfits have stolen Evil Doctor Stomper's
mega-doomsday-device, the "Ultimate Gnab", with which the
Evilverse LNH planned to implode the Looniverse.  But not all of
them escaped...



"Be easy now ma boo, plan ain't mine, know what I mean?"

"Nobody's saying it's your fault, noofer, but it's still grifing
disgusting, it is."

Bonnie rolled up her eyes.  "And why do I have to get stuck with
the Slang Squad?"

"Peep that boo, that our jetizzle."

"He means 'outquant port', I think", Locke clarified.

"Wow thanks.  Yes I see it.  Hold on, this Crime Empire shuttle
gets a bit bumpy when it goes from submarine to flight--"

"Word up.  Be easy and we roll out just tight."

"Sure we do", she said, as the shuttle finally agreed to fly
out of the disgusting water, as it fell from a pipe like a
stinky waterfall.


Who Cares Studios profoundly presents...
                        __________    ______
                       / ____( __ )  / ____/
                      /___ \/ __  | /___ \
                     ____/ / /_/ / ____/ /


                Sky of Blue, and Sea of Green

                       by Lalo Martins

                   Part 9 of Beige Twilight



"Dawg, you can make us a *little* larger now, so that we get
there faster."

"Word up!"

"Sigh... this thing is nice, but I miss my beautiful Bandwagon."
She shrugged.  "Locke, how far are we from E Bay?"

The girl from the future studied the map she had on her lap.
"What the florg, there should be an exit here..."

"Locke", Bonnie said softly, "tell me the truth.  You make all
this slang up, don't you?"

Locked Room blushed a little.  "Of course I do.  You heard what
my *real* language sound like when I got mad at Fran.  I just--
I'm a slang-using kind of noofer, you understand?  I just don't
feel natural using 'normal' language, and the regular slang of
your time didn't appeal to me much.  So I built my own, from
sci-fi comics and TV mostly."

"Five-twenty-three", Bonnie said with a smile.

"Well, actually that one is a direct translation of-- wait,
there's the florging exit!"

The Crime Empire ship made a sharp turn, and exited into E Bay.
"Thanks God for the bad old days of just dumping sewer water
into the bay.  When they learned better, they built new systems
to take the water to the treatment plant; but the old exits into
the bay still exist, if you know where to find them."  The
shuttle ship dropped, reverted to normal size, and landed in a
strange yellow object floating a few hundred meters from the
coast.  Mister Manhandler was waiting for them.

"Yo, Mister Manhandler sir, haps in da hood?"

"Hello yourself", said the big man.  "Ready for diversion number
three?  My ship and crew are ready."

"A little exhausted, but all right", said Bonnie.  "We'll fly
back to the stadium and meet the others, while you and Locked
Room take the Ultimate Gnab to the Crime Empire's secret base at
the bottom of E Bay."

"I see no reason for the girl to--"

"We discussed that.  We're not giving the Gnab to the Empire
without supervision, Resistance or not."

He sighed, as Locke walked out of the shuttle and into an
airlock.  "So be it.  See you at war."  He followed the girl
down the airlock, and Bandwagon Chick took off again.

"We sure 'bout dat boo?  Leavin it to dat baller-blockin
asshat wanksta?"

"Manhandler may be ugly, dim-witted, extremely annoying,
pompous, amoral, and impossible to trust, but--"


"But-- hnn...


"That wasn't a very good plan, was it?"


"That's an entirely five-twenty-three submarine you have here,
sir.  I entirely spring it.  What's that sound?  Music?"

"Proximity alert", said Mister Manhandler, running to an
operations panel and his first officer.  "Someone fired a
torpedo at us, or something to that effect."

"Looks like a grifing man, I'll be sprok..."

"Systems have an ID, sir", said the sailor.  "It's one of the
LNHers from the Evilverse.  You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough
Lad.  Positive ID."

"Oh florg..."


And somewhere, a leader summoned the only two people who could
be trusted, the only true friends in existence.

"We got the coordinates", they were told.


"We'll make our move as soon as you're ready", said the leader.

"Let's review the plan then."

"We all know the plan", said the other.

"We do", the leader said, "but everything must be timed
precisely, or the consequences will be dire."

"The two of us move first..."


"There is no need for worry, young woman", said Mister
Manhandler.  "I assure you, our vehicle has more than enough
firepower to blast--"

"Da, da, but think of the noofer's name."


"He can take any grife you throw at him."

"Only one course of action makes sense then", said Mister
Manhandler, running to the torpedo pod.

"What the sprok are you doing?"  Locke asked, as she arrived a
few seconds after him, to see him getting into a torpedo tube
himself, after having removed the torpedo.

"Shooting him with something that can keep him busy for long
enough.  Please take good care of my submarine."

"You can breathe under water?"

"No.  Neither can he.  But I can hold my breath a lot."

"He'll grifing kill you!"

"Most certainly."

She blinked a few times, but he closed the tube and she decided
to accept reality: that was the only way they could keep the
Gnab away from the Evilverse LNH.  She ran back to the bridge.
"I'm in charge now.  Five-twenty-three?"

"Not quite, miss", said one of the sailors.  "We're detecting
another signal approaching.  It seems also man-sized, and
invisible, but it's propelling itself by boiling the water
behind it--"

"That would be grifing Invisible Incendiary.  Can we outquant?"

"Evasive maneuvers already underway, miss, but he's faster."

"Kloorve that then.  Just shoot him the sprok out of our bay.
He's not invulnerable."

"Yes miss."  The sailor's hand moved toward the torpedo panel.

"Not the torpedoes, they'll melt.  The Big Guns."

The sailor nodded and pressed a button.  Then panic took over
his face.  "It's not firing."


"It's not responding.  Nothing is, in fact; all our systems are
frozen.  And we're not moving, either."

Locked Room exploded in a stream of her native language, making
most sailors cover their ears, as she ran to a side of the
bridge where a few of them were just standing there, waiting for
orders.  "You."  She produced the Gnab from her pocket.
"Jettison this out of the ship.  GRIFING NOW!"

"What?  Miss--"

"That was the plan, noofer.  If we can't get it to the base,
then make sure the sprokheads don't get it back.  I think bottom
of E Bay is good enough, da?"

"Yes sir!", the sailor saluted and ran off.

"All right all right", she said, running back to her "first
officer".  "What the sprok *can* we do?"

"Sir, we have regular Big Guns on board.  As soon as he breaches
the hull, we can kill him."

"At the speed he's approaching, he'll be halfway through the
ship before he slows down enough for us to aim."

"Er, yes, sir.  That seems correct."

"Seems?  Kloorve that, I'm a grifing scientist, I do this kind
of calculation as easy as you press a grifing button.  There's
no saving the ship."

The sailor just saluted.

"Bring out the Big Guns.  Every person on his path should have
one.  Two, if we have enough.  And every person not performing
an essential job should pick up one or two and *be* in his path!
And you, go see if you find out what's wrong with our systems!"

"Yes sir!"

"You", she shouted at the comms officer.  "Type a quick report
and transmit to the Empress by mobile phone as soon as the hull
is breached.  They must know what happened."

There wasn't really enough time to perform *all* the
preparations Locked Room ordered.  But she knew that.  She just
felt giving everyone on board fighting orders would help them
die without time to panic.  She held her own Big Gun tight, and
positioned herself right in the Invisible Incendiary's path.

"Bye Daniel", she whispered.  "Bye Mary."

But as the submarine was being ripped in two by fire and flooded
by high-pressure water, the first officer shouted:  "It's back!
Systems are online again!"

"Da!  Five-twenty-three!  Hit the auto-repairs!"

"Yes sir!", he answered, as dozens of sailors rushed into the
bridge to have their chance to shoot the Invisible Incendiary,
and be killed by him.  One officer standing beside Locke said:

"We have no way of knowing if we're even hitting him!"

She looked at the Evilverse invader with her evolved eyes, and
could see he was badly hurt.  "We're hitting him all right.
Keep at it."

"Oh no", said the first officer.

"What the sprok now?"

"Another dozen or so signals.  More Evilverse people."

"It's over", said the Invisible Incendiary.  "Give me the Gnab,
or we'll kill you, pull your ship apart, and find it.

"Kloorve you", she said, and shot him.  He blasted her at the
same time.  The Invisible Incendiary died immediately; Locked
Room caught fire, and was thrown on the main panel.

"Sir!" said the first officer, running for the nearest fire
extinguisher, and signaling other sailors to do the same.

"Kloorve that", she said faintly.  "We can't let them take the
ship.  Less than a minute before they arrive."


"Press the self-destruct."

The soldier saluted.  As he pressed the button with the other
hand, all other officers in the room joined him in the salute.


 Bonnie Chique         Bandwagon Chick        Sue Clark's
 Doug "Dawg" Tyler     Ultra-Mobile Dawg      mine
 (unpronounceable)     Locked Room            mine
 Mister Manhandler                            mine

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