LNH: Flame Wars Final: First Phase #3

Andrew Perron pwerdna at gmail.com
Wed May 8 10:41:15 PDT 2013

Literary Impossible and Prehistoric Productions present...

            |   ^ ^ ^ ^  FLAME  ^ ^ ^ ^ ^  WARS  ^ ^ ^ ^   |
            |  ^ ^ ^ ^ ^       ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^      ^ ^ ^ ^ ^  |
            |   FFFFFFF IIIIIII NN   NN   AAAA   LL        |
   FIRST    |   FF        III   NNN  NN  AA  AA  LL        |   NUMBER
            |   FF        III   NN NNNN AA    AA LLLLLLL   |
            |   FF      IIIIIII NN  NNN AA    AA LLLLLLL   |

The shadow spread, and the net.heroes were right in its path. Twitter 
held on to the exhausted Sp33d Fr34k. She was closest - and so, it 
touched her mind first.

Twitter staggered under the sudden mental weight. Kid Borlaug felt like 
his legs were turning to cheese. The Crimson @venger fell back, 
clenching her teeth. Very Big Boy closed his eyes, overcome by 
lethargy. Pummelo fell to one knee.

And Outfielder Boy, feeling the push on his mind, pushed back. He threw 
up a wall of telestatic, the psychic noise creating a buffer around his 

Twitter, first to fall, was also first to rise. "Okay!" she said, 
shouting to be heard over the mindnoise. "Very Big Boy, take Sp33d 
Fr34k back to LNHQ."


"You're both wounded, and you can move faster carrying her than I 

"..." Very Big Boy shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. She was the 
leader on this mission, and it wouldn't do to underestimate her. 

As he took off toward the headquarters, Twitter turned. "Okay, guys, 
stay as far away as you can. Outfielder Boy, keep up the defense. 
Crimson @venger, see how it reacts to a long-range attack. Kid Borlaug, 
anything you can do to slow it down. Pummelo - you with us?"

"Uh--" He swallowed, struggling with his perspective switch. "Yeah."

"Okay. Shoot acid, right?" Twitter bounced in place. She was finding it 
harder and harder to keep up the 'super-serious squad leader' act. 
"Anything else?"

Pummelo could see that he was dealing with a no-nonsense hardass. "If I 
concentrate, it homes in on people's eyes."

Oh man, ewgh. But useful! "All right, get it ready. On my signal, 
squirt the bastard!"

He nodded, and the plan went into action. Kid Borlaug reached out to 
the weeds poking through cracks in the pavement. He whispered words of 
growth and encouragement, and they responded, climbing up to entangle 
the approaching figure - only to lose their impetus halfway.

The Crimson @venger gathered net.elemental force into a swirling sphere 
of pure punctuation. She lobbed it through the air, with an arc like a 
mortar shell, rising and falling on the figure's head - and thudding to 
the ground with no effect.

Outfielder Boy winced at the strain. "'s stronger... closer... they 

"Right!" Twitter had had it. Pummel into unconsciousness with super-
speed fists first, ask questions later!

She raced towards the figure. Her accelerated senses picked out 
details: the shuffling gait, the desaturated purple and gray of the 
outfit, and the fact that, hey, this guy looked just like a normal 
college kid--

And then she looked into his eyes.

It was hard to do it. Too hard. But everything else was harder. No 
purpose. No point, really. To anything. And even if she'd had some 
sensible reason, it wasn't like she'd accomplish anything.

As her mind was flooded by thoughts flowing like molasses, the energy 
leeched from her limbs. Even with a lightning-fast mind, there was only 
a fraction of a second in which to act.

Just long enough, in other words, to send a signal.

A squirt of citrus zigged through the air, zagging with mathematical 
precision into the figure's eyes.

It blinked.

Twitter tore away at maximum acceleration, looping around in a wide, 
ragged arc and knocking over Pummelo.


"Oh... hah... n-nice job." She sucked in a breath and rose - and felt 
the shadow. The figure was closing in, and Outfielder Boy had fallen to 
his knees.

The Crimson @venger had Kid Borlaug thrown over her shoulder. "I fear 
we must retreat!"

"No," said Twitter, stumbling, turning to face the shadow. "Can't let 
it get further into the city..."

Kid Borlaug raised his head. "Gotta fight 't the end... 's the Legion 

The Crimson @venger nodded grimly. "Then fight we sha--"

Outfielder Boy gasped, and the blanket of protective static vanished.

It oozed over them like a leaden fog. It wasn't that they couldn't get 
away. It just didn't matter if they did. They could get to it later. 
Right now, it was time to do nothing. Time to be...


A double thunderclap split the sky, and bolts of supersaturated 
prismatic color slammed into the figure. The shadow rippled violently, 
emotion from all up and down the spectrum bleeding out before it burst 
like an overstressed soap bubble. The figure - the man - wobbled and 
fell on his rear. "...what!?"

He stared up. Oh. The new people were here. The scintillating 
supergods, and their herald...

A being touched down in front of the net.heroes, completely covered in 
constantly shifting fractal patterns, blue and purple and red. "Yo. I'm 
Chaos Theory, these are the Agents of the Intergalactic Network, and 
that was a Servant of Sloth. Any questions?"


Andrew "NO .SIG MAN" "Juan" Perron, posting this one late because I 
forgot, argh

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