REPOST/LNH/SG: Beige Midnight #9: PLANET MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!! II: "Mite-Lite of the Gods" (1/3)
Arthur Spitzer
arspitzer at earthlink.net
Wed Sep 5 16:35:10 PDT 2012
[Cover: Two tsunami size waves made of superheroes and supervillains
come from opposite sides to crash into each other.
Always-Seems-Powerful-On-His-Own-But-Gets-His-Ass-Kicked-in-Crowd-Scenes
Boy stands in the middle and says in a dialogue balloon, "Oh
@#$%&*@#!!!!!!"]
**** <<--BM-->> ****
The place -- A Helicopter above Net.ropolis
The time --
B E I G E
M I D N I G H T
The number -- N I N E
The Writers -- Arthur Spitzer, Saxon Brenton, and Mynabird!
**** <<--BM-->> ****
April 2008 --
High Above the LNHHQ's front lawn --
This was very difficult, thought Building Suspense Lad as he was hanging
with just one hand on a helicopter landing skid. And it wasn't helping
that his arch-enemy Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story was trying to stomp
his fingers. And there seemed to be a beige tarantula (actually pink)
crawling up his leg.
He wasn't quite sure why he had grabbed onto the helicopter. Perhaps he
had hoped to beat Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story, Kaiser Krowd Zene (who
was teaming up with him at the moment), and a bunch of military guys
with thick German accents that were manning the helicopter and take it
down. But that plan hadn't exactly gone very well.
And now the strain of his fingers was becoming a little too much. And
gravity's hold was becoming overwhelming. He could hear Kaiser Krowd
Zene shouting something over the noise of the helicopter. Something
about landing the helicopter so that they could kick
Always-Seems-Powerful-On-His-Own-But-Gets-His-Ass-Kicked-in-Crowd-Scenes
Boy's ass (or Vick hist Vozz). But Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story would
have none of that. He kept shouting, "Get on with the damn story!!"
over and over again while he tried to stomp Building Suspense Lad's fingers.
And Building Suspense Lad looked down and around him at the battle of
all battles taking shape. He could see an out of control Looniversal
Answering Machine flinging Kirbybots at the Beige Clock Tower and
cackling in delight as they burst into dust. He saw Turtles of
Apocalyptic Proportions battling Zeppelins made of Cheeez, Spham, and
other humorously named food. There were three RACCelestials just
hovering above it all and just watching -- and occasionally muching on a
big bowl of popcorn they had. Batwinged Net.zi Kangaroos battled
Butterfly winged Rabbi Gila Monsters. Giant Bikini-clad Women (and also
a dragon wearing purple underpants by the name of -- FIN FANFIC FOOM!)
were playing a very destructive game of volleyball over the skyscrapers
of Net.ropolis. Building Suspense Lad watched the Pister Maprika
Building fall down as a gigantic volleyball slammed into it.
And up in the sky -- beyond the haze of insects that made up Dekay's
head, he saw what looked like a wolf trying to devour the Sun. And
in-between it, two stick figures (one male -- one female) making snarky
comments about it all.
Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story continued to scream, "Get on with the
damn story!!" Another one of Building Suspense Lad's fingers slipped.
He was down to two. Building Suspense Lad gritted his teeth. The agony
was almost unbearable. He looked down at the front lawn of the LNHHQ.
There were hundreds of superheroes battling what appeared to be millions
of supervillains. And he could see the leader of these villains,
Mynabird, mowing down various heroes as he made his way towards
Easily-Discovered Man Lite. Nothing could stop him.
He looked at his last two fingers. Each hanging on for dear life. It
reminded him of something that had happened to him when he was child.
He was eight years old and hanging onto the monkey bars for dear life.
And just when it seemed like he couldn't hold on forever, his eight year
old self had a flashback involving his three year old self and...
"GET ON WITH THE DAMN STORY!!!! GET ON WITH THE DAMN STORY!!!!!!!!!"
Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story slammed his foot down on one of Building
Suspense Lad's remaining fingers.
And now Building Suspense was down to one finger. One finger. And he
could feel that one starting to slip too. And in some way he was
relieved. He could finally let go. Let it all go.
And as he watched his last finger give up, he realized that there was
only one thing standing between him and the ground below.
And that thing was...
**** <<--BM-->> ****
PLANET MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!!
PART II
'Mite-Lite of the Gods'
**** <<--BM-->> ****
LNHHQ Sub-Sub Basement 58.5 --
And then -- there was a calmness. The room stopped shaking.
Occultism Kid looked at the half page that was coming out of the Book of
Deus ex Machinas. The Spell of Spells. Surrounding him were four
circles made up of 57.5 trenchcoaters. And there was something else in
the room. Something that was playing with the jukebox. The same thing
that had been shaking the room.
But whatever it was it had calmed down. The song 'Another One Bites the
Dust' by Queen continued to play on the jukebox. Occultism Kid looked
down at the shards of the Cosmic Plot Device. Time to put that
together, he guessed. And then the lights went out. And then came on
again. And then off and on again. Apparently, the force in the room
with them had decided to play with the light switch. It was annoying,
but he could deal with that.
He fitted each piece till the cracks between began to mold together.
And a glow began to emit from the device. He could feel it start to
flow like a liquid in zero gravity. A gold jeweled liquid with all
kinds of power. It wanted him to form it into some type of object.
Occultism Kid decided an amulet form would suffice and hung the object
around his neck. He could feel a rush of power start to charge into
him. And then he heard a song in his head. The Cosmic Plot Device was
trying to speak to him. Give him suggestions. It didn't like all of
these trenchcoaters that were surrounding it and him. That would
probably be because the circles of trenchcoaters were dampening its
power and absorbing most of its corruption abilities.
The Cosmic Plot Device began to make a case to Occultism Kid for putting
on the Insanity Gauntlet and using the combined power to kill all of the
trenchcoaters. Only then would Occultism Kid have the power to slay the
Bryttles and restore the Looniverse back to its former self. And
according to the device, he only had a short window of time to do this
before the Bryttles became even more powerful than all of the magical
devices in this room.
Occultism Kid actually considered this for a few seconds. What if the
Cosmic Plot Device was right? What if killing everyone in the room was
the best option. The only option.
Occultism Kid shook his head. Not yet. But it scared the hell out of
him that he might have to do exactly that.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
The LNHHQ Front Lawn --
I look at my hand. Red dripping. Dripping all over. And I turn my
head to see my teammates. My poor doomed teammates. My poor doomed LNH
sub group. Team
LNH-Subgroup-Designed-to-be-Mowed-Down-by-Mynabird-to-Show-What-an-Incredible-Bad-Ass-He-Is.
My team.
Over there is the lifeless corpse of
Comes-up-with-horrible-awful-names-for-LNH-subgroups Lad. The jokester
of our group. I think it might have been a mistake to have him name our
team. Yeah -- that was a bad idea.
And over there,
Yet-Another-Character-with-an-incredibly-long-name-that-won't-amuse-Scott-Eiler-but-hey-it's-okay-since-he's-dead
Man. The hothead of our group. He was so angry at the world. Angry at
a world that hates superheroes with incredibly long names. May he find
peace in the afterlife.
And sweet -- sweet
Her-Death-Would've-Been-More-Poignant-If-She-Had-Actually-Appeared-in-Something-Before-this-Issue
Lass (or Herdy as she liked us to call her). Sweet, sweet Herdy. The
female of our group. I wish I could have told -- told you how much --
how much I loved you. And now -- it's too late. Much too late. You're
dead.
And then there's me. The man who led this group to this grave. Me, the
team leader -- and token black guy. Me, Dr.
Can-Beat-Any-Supervillain-Except-for-Mynabird. It's all on me. Why did
I do this? Why did I lead them all here?
I grew up in a place called Quick Slide Falls. Time is so much faster
there. It was a place effected by the Slide-Rule of Time. In Quick
Slide Falls, 40 years has passed since Mynabird formed the Legion of
Net.Villains as opposed to the only one year or so in the rest of the
world. And because of that the legend of Mynabird is even greater there.
As a kid I was always good at almost everything. I always got straight
A's. Tons of sports trophies and blue ribbons for science projects.
But in spite of all that, it seemed like everyone was always telling me
there was one thing I couldn't do. One thing that I would never do. I
couldn't beat Mynabird. No matter how many medals, trophies, doctorates
I managed to get -- they'd always tell I couldn't beat Mynabird. Every
teacher, every coach, every priest, every professor, every politician.
Even my first girlfriend told me right after we had sex for the first
time that it was the best most amazing orgasm she had ever had -- but
that I couldn't beat Mynabird.
Even my Mother, my dear sweet Mama who loved me more than anything -- I
remember these words she said after I had graduated from college at the
age of 16. She gave me a big hug and said this with tears streaming
from her eyes. "Honey, I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud. And I want
you to remember this. Don't let anyone -- and I mean anyone tell you,
you can't do anything you set your mind too. Don't let anyone!" she
said pointing her finger straight at me. "Because if you work hard
there's nothing you can't accomplish. Nothing! You can do it all,
child. You can do it all. Well, except for beating Mynabird of course.
You can't do that. That boy's too much of a badass. But everything
else of course."
And I probably should have listened to her. But I didn't. I vowed on
that day that I would beat Mynabird. I devoted all of my abilities and
energy to that goal. I recruited like minded people and formed my own
LNH subgroup. And we trained and trained. For this day.
And that's how we all ended up here. That's how they all died. And now
I'm dying. I can hear Mynabird's suit stomping over here. His shadow
hovering over me. Maybe just maybe -- there's still a chance. A chance
to beat him. I go for my gun. And I point it and -- *click*. *Click*.
Out of bullets.
And I can see Mynabird looking down at me. And he says something --
something to me. "You can't beat me." And I want to laugh, but it's
too painful.
I could have accomplished anything. Cured cancer. Made cheap clean
energy to run the world. Taken down any other supervillain. But no. I
had to fight Mynabird.
I see a crackle start to emit from Mynabird's hand. Only time for one
more thought.
Probably should have taken down the Bryttles first.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
Mr. Homage watched various members of the LNH and Mynabird's Legion of
Net.Freedom Lovers smacking the hell out of each other. There was no
point in getting in the middle of this just yet, thought Homage as he
slid his armored fingers along the edge of the Confederate saber he was
holding. Still, maybe he could pick off some of the lesser heroes. He
scanned over the battlefield looking for easy kills and spotted some
young hero wielding a plastic spatula who was busy dodging various
villain attacks.
It was him, wasn't it? The gnat that had started this hurricane. What
was it? Easily-Discovered Man Brite? Lite. Yes, Lite that sounded
right. Mynabird had created this vast supervillain army so he could
destroy this pathetic sidekick? That was rich! And a plan began to
form in Homage's mind.
Why not just kill this Lite himself? He had a feeling that the LNFL was
probably going to lose this battle anyways and that there was going to
be a change in leadership after that happened. If he killed Lite he
would not only rob Mynabird of his revenge, but also show the rest that
he could do something Mynabird had failed repeatedly to do. Kill
Easily-Discovered Man Lite. They'd have to make him leader.
And then he could mold this team into something more useful. Get rid of
the deadweight. He could then split up the team and place his most
loyal lieutenants in charge of each section. They would be all across
the world. He could just see it: A Brotherhood of Net.Villains in
Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, Alt.stralia. Everywhere. He could
run all of the organized crime in every country. And then use the
capital to buy stock in various corporations and make even more money.
Money to bribe any politician. That's how you rule the world. And he'd
have no problem with the LNH. They could continue battling space aliens
and cosmic menaces -- saving the world. He had no problem with that.
Of course various other villains would probably oppose him. He'd have
to get rid of them. Lagneto -- definitely.
But first things first. Get rid of Easily-Discovered Man Lite. Sorry,
Lite -- I have nothing against you. This is just a business decision,
thought Homage smiling to himself.
That's all.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
"'ey right! Let's smash some 'eads!" said a punkish looking man wearing
a white wedding dress. His hair was thoroughly peroxided. "Let's give
some They Might Be Giant inspired 'ero gits a right good pasting!" he
said smashing a bottle of gin against a wall. And then he looked at one
of his mates, a man who seemed to have eyes, but no face. "'E's not
coming. 'E never comes."
The Eyes without a face turned his peroxide haired head. "I just 'ave
this feeling. And it's strong."
Another man with peroxided hair who seemed to be dancing with himself
sneered with disgust. "'E 'oo lives in 'is own 'eaven and collects it
to go from seven eleven 'as made 'is choice."
And the rest nodded their peroxide haired heads. The rest being a man
made of both flesh and fantasy, a man that once you saw him you couldn't
forget about him. And a woman covered with the word's 'Mony, Mony' all
over her clothes. Together they formed the punk supervillain band
called Billy's Idolaters.
"Wait!" said Eyes without a Face still scanning the battlefield.
"There! Do you see 'im? That armored bloke over with the sword?"
"What about 'im?" said Dancing-with-Myself sinking another drink.
"Oh wait!" shouted Mony-Mony Cover Girl. "It's a Civil War sword! A
confederate one at that!"
"Wait, you're not saying..." said White Wedding Lad.
"Yes," said Eyes without a Face. "Only one person alive would wield
such a sword into battle. There for that means that Mr. 'omage is
actually."
And they shouted together, "REBEL YELL!!!!!"
"Let's thrash that 'eretic!!!!"
**** <<--BM-->> ****
As Mr. Homage made his way over towards Easily-Discovered Man Lite to
destroy him once and for all, he felt something hit him. That something
being an electric guitar.
"What the..." said Homage turning his head only to find himself faced
with a peroxide haired fury pounding the living hell out of him. Why in
the world were these punks attacking him?
The woman with the word Mony scrawled all over her clothes began crying,
"More! More! More!"
"'Ey take that you blasphemer of The Billy!!" shouted the punk in the
white wedding dress.
"Rebel Yell!" said Eyes without a Face clutching a bottle of peroxide.
"Long 'ave you scorned our ways. But no more. 'Old 'im down!! Time
for your 'air to feel -- The Peroxide of Truth!!"
"You idiots!!" Mr. Homage hurled the remaining Billy's Idolaters that
were still hanging on him and ripped off his face mask. "I am not Rebel
Yell. I have never been Rebel Yell!! My name is Robbing Lie-fild!!
Robbing Lie-fild!!!! See!?" [As revealed in Continuity Champ & The
Drizzt's Defenders #22 -- Footnote Girl]
"Seriously?" asked Kid Don't-You-(Forget About Me).
"Yes!! Seriously!!!"
"Wow, that was rather disappointing," said Eyes without a Face. "Oh,
sod this. Let's go steal some more electric guitars and peroxide!!"
And with that Billy's Idolaters rushed off into the day crying,
"Peroxide!!!"
Mr. Homage shook his head, put his face mask back on, and dusted himself
off. "Right. Where was I? Ah, yes. Killing Easily-Discovered Man
Lite. Now where did he..." But right before he could spot Lite a
gigantic volleyball the size of a house fell onto him.
Easily-Discovered Man Lite strolled by the utterly crushed Mr. Homage.
"Cool sword."
**** <<--BM-->> ****
The Ultimate Ninja felt out of breath. That shouldn't be happening. He
was never out of breath. In the last ten minutes or so he had only
managed to slaughter a mere 99 evil alternate LNH teams. Teams made up
of 400 to 500 or so members. That was what -- only 49,000 or so? He
shouldn't be this tired.
Was it old age? Was the Beige Clocktower sapping all of his power? He
didn't know. All he knew was he could really use a break. The Ultimate
Ninja thought about all these evil LNH's he had massacred. The evil LNH
where everyone had Hitler mustaches. The evil LNH where everyone was an
insurance salesman. The Legion of Net.Hurters. The Legion of
Net.Hooligans. The Legion of Non.Heroes. The Legion of Nun.Hustlers.
And the evil LNH where everyone was an evil Pro-Wrestling Mime. And
countless others.
And then the Ultimate Ninja felt a shadow descend over him. "So,
Ultimate Ninja. Done with the appetizers? Ready for the main course?"
There was only one person who could say such a cheesy and inane bit of
dialogue. The Ultimate Ninja turned his head to see a giant RoboMAC.
"wReamicus Maximus!"
"Actually it's wReamicus MaxiTRON now. Like my new look?" wReamicus
MaxiTRON's left hand transformed into a chainsaw and his right hand into
a rocket launcher. "Pretty sweet -- huh? I can also change into a
helicopter, space shuttle, tank, Volkswagen, zamboni, and a Jacuzzi!"
"How about a coffin?" said the Ultimate Ninja whipping out his Ginsu Katana.
"Nah, I think I'll just put your severed head behind a display case in
some museum celebrating my greatness and sell the rest for pet food. A
coffin won't be necessary."
The Ultimate Ninja yawned.
"Oh, I know I've failed to destroy you countless times, but this time
it's different."
"Yeah? How?"
"Because I am now in this perfect form. You see all of those other
times I was in a flawed human form -- too flawed for one such as Dave to
respect. That was why I always lost."
"Really? It wasn't because you were a complete moron?"
wReamicus MaxiTRON laughed. "But now I have achieved a form even Dave
cannot resist loving. This RoboMAC form. And now he shall lead me in
victory against you and help me conquer the Looniverse so I can spread
the word of Dave to every galaxy -- to every planet. Even as we speak,
a team of my devoted acolytes are heading to LNHHQ sub-sub basement
#58.5 to acquire the Cosmic Plot Device, Ring of Retconn, Insanity
Gauntlet, and anything else of value."
**** <<--BM-->> ****
LNHHQ Sub-sub Basement #48 --
"No, I'm pretty sure it was #55.8," said Wally the Church of the Dvandom
Acolyte looking at a map.
"I'm telling you it was 85.5! I have a perfect memory for these
things!" said Lyle the Church of the Dvandom Acolyte stomping through
some swampy water.
"You know -- I'm beginning to think we should have wrote that number
down. Say -- what's that thing over there?" said Newt the Church of the
Dvandom Acolyte.
"It looks like some giant half scorpion/octopus creature!" said Max the
Church of the Dvandom Acolyte.
A tentacle shot out and dragged Wally into the darkness. Various
horrible screams followed.
"A man eating giant half scorpion/octopus creature," said Max.
"And map eating also," said Lyle.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
"So, Ultimate Ninja. Are you ready -- for this our final battle?"
The Ultimate Ninja gazed straight into the eyes of the robotic hulk that
was wReamicus Maxitron and gave a nod.
"So be it. May the best RoboMAC win," said wReamicus Maximus with a
smirk on his face as he raised his chainsaw hand.
5 seconds later...
The severed head of wReamicus Maxitron watched as the Ultimate Ninja
somersaulted over his RoboMAC body and onto slaughtering even more evil
alternate LNHes.
Finally wReamicus Maxitron's severed head looked slightly up towards the
Fourth Wall. "Ah, Dave. You're a hard deity to please."
**** <<--BM-->> ****
Twitter zoomed in to confront an average looking man dressed in casual
clothes rather than a costume. "Hi! I'm Twitter! I'm here to beat the
crap out of you. Apart from that, how's your day going?"
Her opponent smiled, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Hey,
it's been great. I'm
Well-Adjusted-And-Doesn't-Have-To-Dress-Up-Like-An-Animal-To-Deal-With-His-Crippling-Emotional-Pain
Guy, by the way."
"That's a bit of a long name," said Twitter, dubiously.
Well-Adjusted-And-Doesn't-Have-To-Dress-Up-Like-An-Animal-To-Deal-With-His-Crippling-Emotional-Pain
Guy shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well, yeah. But
it's not like the Legion is in a position to complain about long names,
is it? Anyway, let's get on with this. I'm meeting with my
not-dead-at-all parents later for lunch. Because, you know, they love
me and like to keep in touch."
Parents! A stab of angst hit Twitter hard in the chest. She fell to
her knees and wailed, "My parents don't love meeee!"
And WAADHTDULAATDWHCEPGuy smirked nastily. Well, that had been easy.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
Sub-sub Basement 11 (Switzerland) --
A group of kiwis and oozlefinches were gathered in a room deep under the
LNHHQ in Sub-sub Basement 11 (or known to everyone else as
'Switzerland'). It was a neutral place for the various species that
lived in the LNHHQ to talk to each other. And now there was a big
meeting. A new threat had emerged.
The two representatives of the kiwis and oozlefinches stared at each
other in a suspicious manner. On the kiwis side was the wise old
Statesmen -- J. Random Kiwi. On the oozlefinches side was the great
Communicator -- T. Random Oozlefinch.
After a lot of deep staring, the two signed some papers. Then there was
some more deep staring. And eventually, they both shook hands (or wings
-- or whatever).
At that point, the room erupted in a lot of kiwi sounds and oozlefinch
sounds. Toothpicks, Paperclips, and other dangerous objects were wildly
pointed into the air.
Today they would be allies for there was a greater threat out there. A
dangerous evil that if left unchecked might spell doom for both races.
A creepy crawly menace. Tarantulas. Beige tarantulas (They're pink --
I tell you!).
Today they would join forces to fight this peril.
But only today.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
Chuggernaut glanced a bored stare at his Weiner-National-Weiner Dogs and
gigantic Volleyball bikini clad women as they destroyed Net.ropolis and
manhandled all the heroes that tried to stop them. He took another swig
from his magical beer bottle.
"Are you people pussies!? Is there not one of you that can stop -- The
Chuggernaut!!!?" raged the Chuggernaut as he pumped both fists in the air.
And then he felt something hit his head. Like a brick. He turned his
head. And saw someone that he would definitely like to pound into oblivion.
"Hey, Boozy McBoozer! How about me?" said
You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad with a not very sane grin on his face.
"You. Oh, yeah -- I remember you. [See LNHCP #44 -- Footnote Girl]"
The Chuggernaut then raised his magical beer bottle high in the sky.
All of the Weiner-National-Weiner Dogs, gigantic Volleyball bikini clad
women, and every other Beer Commercial Monstrosity was sucked back into
the beer bottle. And the Chuggernaut took another swig. His fist began
to crackle with beer commercial energy. "You want me to hit you? I can
do that. In fact I'm going to hit you so hard that your head is going
to fly out of the Solar System and your body -- well, that's going to go
all the way to China."
"Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises," said
You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad just standing there with his hands
gesturing towards his chin.
"Right. You asked for it." And Chuggernaut pulled his fist as far as
it would go back.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
1945 AD--
The LNHHQ, Net.ropolis --
As the Grin with the Gun, Net.ropolis's Greatest Champion, went over to
pick up the morning newspaper; he caught a glimpse of some strange man
in a labcoat that crackled with some blue energy that seemed to erase
the reality of the world it touched.
"Hey there!" said Boy Lad pulling out his gun. "Can I help you?"
A wicked smile emerged from the strangers face. "No, thank you. I'm
pretty sure I can destroy the LNH without any aid from you." The
stranger then gave a wave as the blue energy caused him to vanish
completely.
"How peculiar!" said a slightly disturbed Boy Lad disappointed because
he couldn't use his gun. "Should put those labcoat types in a
internment camp or something!" And then he looked at his watch. "Oh!
Got to make the trains run on time!"
**** <<--BM-->> ****
1950s
1960s
1970s
1980s
Dr. Killfile watched time race towards the future in the Killfile Zone.
Spring became Summer became Fall became Winter. Cold War Paranoia
became Beatniks became Hippies became Disco Dancers became Punk Rockers
became Break Dancers.
1990s
As he came to the 1990s, he slowed the Killfile Zone's ascent to the
future with a mere flick of the wrist.
1992 --
Here's where his war with the LNH began. He was so young and stupid
back then. He didn't realize his full potential. And he had paid for
that stupidity by becoming a vegetable. He saw a brief flash of Beige
as he passed the summer of '92.
1993 --
And this was the year he died.
1994 --
And this was the year he was reborn. And where his plan -- his final
plan had begun.
1998 -- His glorious return and the beginning of his work. Placing all
of the dominoes for their eventual fall.
2000s
2000 --
He saw a front page of the Mid.Net Star that had somehow gotten caught
in his Killfile time field. The headline read 'George W Bush Wins
Election!' There was a brief flicker and the name 'Hex Luthor' replaced
'George W Bush'. Killfile ripped the annoying paper from his time field
and dropped it on 2002.
2006 --
This was the year of a minor setback to his ultimate plan. But
ultimately it was a trivial delay. At this point in time he hadn't yet
learned his full potential.
But now he could do almost anything with his killfile powers. With a
slight gesture of his hands or fingers, time and space were his to
command. He could manipulate the bonds of atoms with his killfile
energy. He could erase gravity's hold. He could make the entire
magnetic field of the Loonivearth disappear if he willed it. He could
make himself invisible to all senses. And he could read anyone's
thoughts with his killfile energy. Not that he cared what anyone thought.
He could do anything he wanted with his killfile energy. But he only
wanted to do one thing with it. Just one thing. End the LNH. End the
LNH forever. That's all he cared about. Everything else was meaningless.
And as he slowed down the Killfile Zone a bit more, he could feel the
end. Somehow he could feel the LNH's end. And it felt very good. He
was getting close to 2012. The year the LNH would die once and for all
at his hands.
2007 --
Strange, thought Killfile as he hit the month of April. This April
seemed to be going on forever. Killfile looked at his watch. Something
was wrong here. But before he could investigate it became May, June,
July -- and everything went back to normal.
Except the Killfile Zone was starting to slow down against his wishes.
2008 --
Killfile willed more power, but it kept slowing down. And then the
color of the world drained away -- and everything became beige.
What the hell was wrong? He wanted to go to 2012 not 2008. Was it
possible that there was some force even more powerful than him
preventing him from getting there? He would have to investigate this.
As he hit April 2008, he could feel time sliding on the brakes. Some
battle was happening. What was going on here?
And right as he entered the present time stream, he saw something flying
right at him.
It was a fist. A big fist. A really, really big fist.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
Both the Chuggernaut and You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad watched
Dr. Killfile hit the ground like a sack of flour soaked in killfile energy.
The Chuggernaut looked at his fist singed by killfile energy. And then
he looked at the unconscious form of Dr. Killfile and then he looked at
You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad. "Ah, screw this. Going to find
myself a bar." And with that said the Chuggernaut stomped off to find a
bar.
And out of the bushes leaped the binge-drinking dynamo -- Frat Boy!
"Hah! Did you see that? I used my powers to make Chuggernaut's desire
to drink beer more than his desire to kick your ass. No need to thank
me. Just doing my job."
"Thank you?" said You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad. "Thank you!!!?
I wanted him to hit me. I wanted that to happen!!!!"
"You're a strange one, YNHMHE Lad." And then Frat Boy looked at the
unconscious body crackling with killfile energy. "Hey, is that Dr.
Killfile on the ground? It kind of looks like him."
**** <<--BM-->> ****
And time and space twisted and cracked as something emerged from the
sky. It was Dev-Null the renegade. One of the three last Qwertians in
the Looniverse. The LNH had left him stranded in the past on his long
dead home world, but fortunately for him he had acquired one of their
time machines and reworked it to get back to his own present time. He
had also reworked it so that it could fly and create a force field
around him. As well as blast away at whatever threats there were.
And he took out a bag filled with colorful sparkling dice. 665 LNH
dice. "I'm back LNH. I thought about just going to the Dvorakian
Empire and wiping them out first, but I should probably be here to
hammer the final nail in your coffin. Enjoy!"
He scooped out some dice and started throwing them in the air as he flew
over the battlefield. When the last die fell, he took out a device and
turned it on. The device emitted a sound wave that caused the dice to
change back into the various imprisoned god like beings and apocalypse
beasts that they had been before Bart had changed them.
An apocalypse beast that looked like a cross between a humpback whale,
hummingbird, and bidet thanked Dev-Null for this act of kindness by
swallowing him up whole without chewing him.
**** <<--BM-->> ****
TOMORROW: Part II of Issue Nine!
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