LNH: Legion of Net.Heroes Volume 2 #51 Add-on

[Adrian J. McClure]

LNH v2 #51 add-on. Written by Adrian J. McClure

I'm not at all sure this is a good idea. But, as they say on Tumblr,
YOLO.

****

The Crossover Queen surveyed the scene of the battle with disgust. The
sickeningly adorable fan-art duplicates of the Avengers were
massacring her gorilla legions. She turned to the latest prize of her
conquest: the severed head of hte Internet Oracle. "Oracle," she
asked, "why have all our attempts to conquer the Tumblrverse failed?

And the Oracle spoke: "Dear Crossover Queen,

"RACC is being held back by one particular author. You know the one.
Get rid of him and everything will be just fine.

"You owe the Oracle a signed copy of One More Day."

The Crossover Queen frowned. She could never do what the Oracle
suggested on her own. But she knew of someone who could.

And so it was that she found herself face to face with Arthur E.L.
Presence.

"You went to some effort to find me," said the metafictional assassin.
"What do you want?"

"We have a common enemy," said the Crossover Queen. "There is an
author who is restricting RACC's creativity and its capacity to grow.
You have been tainted by his touch as well. I want you to get rid of
him once and for all."

"Hmmm," said Arthur E.L. Presence. "What you're suggesting is not to
be done lightly. If I go to the highest level of reality I can and
kill him, that will destroy his creativity, such as he has. It will be
the end of him as a writer. And it will destroy all his creations as
if they had never been. Do you realize the effect that would have on
reality? Not that I care for reality myself, I just wonder if you know
what you're doing."

"Yes. But if I am to rise above Usenet and conquer new worlds, it must
be done."

"Then so be it." And Arthur E.L. Presence rose through the levels of
reality, to the very edge of the Fourth Wall.

Meanwhile, the writer in question was working on his next message in
response to all the idiots who hated his story. People were always
getting on his case for no reason. And they actually wanted him to
apologize! Didn't they see he was just making a joke? Sometimes he
wondered why he didn't just leave. But then he knew: because he needed
to show them he was right. He had to show them. He had to.

He started typing his next sentence, but the words on the page weren't
what he had in mind. The sentence read: "Arthur E.L. Presence stood
behind the writer, holding his gun in his hand." He erased the
sentence, then wrote it again. It was still the same. Then he turend
around. Arthur E.L. Presence was there, on the other side of the room.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"For you to die."

The writer's heart was pounding. He knew he could survive this. He was
the writer here. He was in control. He summoned Neo from the Matrix.
Neo pulled out his gun and sent a hail of bullets at Arthur E.L.
Presence, leaping around the world. Arthur E.L. Presence stood still.
The bullets didn't effect him a bit. "The bird fights its way out of
the egg," he said. "The egg is the world. Who would be born must
destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."
Neo's skin began to crack open. A small blue bird burst from what had
been Neo and flew through the walls into the sky.

The writer's heart pounded faster. He summoned Superman, who burst
through the walls and aimed his heat vision at Arthur E.L. Presence.
He took a mirror out of his pocket. The mirror reflected Superman's
vision back at him and he burst into flames.

"No," said the writer. "No." He needed to think of another movie,
something that could defeat him. Somehow his mind went back to Peter
Pan. Maybe it was because people had been telling him to grow up. He
summoned a crocodile, the alarm clock ticking in its stomach, which
headed off the assassin. Arthur E.L. Presence grabbed the crocodile
and swallowed him whole. "You can do whatever has been done before,"
he said. "But I can imagine what has never been." He held the gun to
the writer's temple. "Goodbye."

"No." The writer was sobbing, horrified and ashamed by his own display
of emotion. "No, please don't. I have a wife. I have children."

"They are not real. Neither are you. They are reflections of your own
ego. Your real self's wife and children will thank me, perhaps. He
will have much more time for them now." He pulled the trigger,
unleashing the bullet the Crossover Queen had forged from pure
creativity stolen from the hearts of dead writers and artists.

"And I saw Satan falling from the heavens as lightning."

The writer screamed.

On the Looniearth, Browsing Boy woke up alone in bed. He felt a
terrible emptiness and did not know why.

Devastator woke up in bed, wondering what the strange dream had meant.
"Ho!"

"What did you call me?" said Sister State-The-Obvious.

"Something evil is afoot! I fear the very fabric of reality has been
damaged! To me, my Omni-Blade!" The Omni-Blade flew across the room
and landed in his hand.

"Darling, go back to sleep," said Sister State-The-Obvious. "It's
probably just a retcon. It's nothing you can deal with by hitting it
with your sword."

Devastator sighed. He tramped out of the room, looking for a problem
he _could_ solve by hitting it with his sword.

And the corpse of the author that had been fell through the levels of
reality, headed straight for the Looniearth.

****

Well. Alea jacta est, as they say.

The Crossover Queen was created by Jeff "Drizzt" Barnes, currently
reserved by me
The Internet Oracle was created by various people and in the Real
World remains undaunted and undecapitated on the Internet Oracle
mailing list and rec.humor.oracle.
Arthur E.L. Presence was created by Steven Howard
Browsing Boy was created by Jeffrey Klein
Sister State-the-Obvious was created by wReam
Devastator was created by me, Free for Use. You'll be learning more
about him soon enough.
And I'm reserving the corpse.