LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #22: RETCON HOUR Delta

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer at earthlink.net
Tue Jun 14 19:22:24 PDT 2016

LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #22:  RETCON HOUR Delta

In this weeks reposting of stuff you can find in the eyrie archive
we have the fourth part of RETCON HOUR.

For the tenth issue of the Retcon Hour crossover we have some more
Matt "Badger" Rossi's Swordmaster and the Load Island Renegades with
a Zero Issue.

The eleventh issue is Nicks of Time Limited Series #2 with some
more Badger and some more Joltin' Jeff McCoskey.

And finally the twelfth issue we have a Generation Y Annual
by Martin Phipps (with help from Jeff McCoskey and Robert
"Mystic Mongoose" Armstrong).

             | |      Classic			
             | |                      =
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             | |__   | [] |  | [] |  | |  | [] |  | _ \  

             |____|   \__]    \__ |  |_|   \__/   |_|\_\
                                |_|  OF NET.HEROES

                                     ADVENTURES #22

                           RETCON HOUR Delta

From: Jeff J McCoskey <jjmcc at ix.netcom.com>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: 21 Feb 1997 17:20:52 -0800

Author Credits:  RH8a -- Matt Rossi, RH9 -- Matt Rossi/JJMcC,
		 RH11 -- Martin Phipps

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(>)                 RETCON HOUR PART 8a             (<)
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(>)   Sword Master & the Load Island Renegades #0   (<)
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Narcoleptic Dogs is too clever for it's own damn good and has
managed to trick itself into presenting--

(It's a collector's item! It's a refreshing beverage! IT'S BOTH!)

Step right up march push
crawl right up on your knees
(Nine Inch Nails, March of the Pigs)

"Swordmaster, Meet Dark Sword. Dark Sword, Meet Swordmaster. I want
a good clean fight, gentlemen. COME OUT SWINGING!"

     Swordmaster and CAW and Rodent and dad (Oh my!) shimmered out
of the WWII era museum they had just finished demolishing in a
strange and mysterious battle with the Gimmick Gang and Net.si scum
which you can read about in Nicks of Time #2 if you hurry, and
     "Well, does anyone remember where we parked?" Asked CAW, the
giant yellow battlerobot who still has the personality of Tv's
Wisecracking Crow. A few of the readers were knocked unconscious
by the reference, which slammed into their skulls with the fury of
a mountain goat.
     "CAW...nevermind. Okay, Rodent, dad, if you two are feeling
alright, let's get to exploring...whatever this is." Swordmaster
looked around at the blank expanse of whiteness. White as far as
the eye can see. How far is that, anyway? I mean, if there was no
horizon due to the curvature..."DO YOU MIND!? We're trying to get
involved in a chaotic battle with our time-lost duplicates! The
LAST thing we need is you rambling on like the Digressor!"
     The team walked toward nowhere in particular. Suddenly, the
white space spoke. "Renegades...I have need of you."
     "Always nice to be needed."
     "It never hurts to help."
     "I say the price of fish is too high."
     "What do you need from us?" Asked Swordmaster. "And who are
you, anyway?"
     "I am the Rac.ctre, the grim and ghostly figure who has
unlimited power but a limited mandate to use it. Currently, I am
holding the alternate worlds apart, or the unrestricted use of the
Ring of Retcon would have destroyed them. But this effort is
keeping me from preventing the Time Crapper's plot to unbalance the
RACCelestial Madonna Pageant...he has sent minions back in time to
destabilize it. It is the KEY to defeating the villainy of
wReamicus Maximus and the Time Crapper and thusly, it MUST be
preserved...but I am charged to remain here, or reality will
     "Ooh," said CAW. "Tremendous Exposition there, Rac.ctre. I
give it a nine point seven."
     "Yeah." The Rodent had an expression he rarely showed...that
of comprehension. "Martin'll be glad we finally explained why the
whole Pageant was important."
     "Yes, Swordy, our leader?"
     "Sorry, Boss."
     "So, Rac.ctre, how can we help?" The huge expanse of white
turned black, and the team felt themselves moving again, as they
had before, through time, but this time nobody heaved.
     "I need you to remove a rogue element from time...a group that
has aided the Time Crapper in his war on himself. They are
destabilizing the Time Stream, and besides...it's something too
small for me to do."
     "And this Rogue element through time?" The Rodent was so happy
not to be vomiting again that he didn't see this one coming.
     "Dark Sword and the Evil Renegades...you, in other words."
     "Woah." CAW looked at Swordmaster, who clenched his jaw in
consternation. "Heck of a standoff."
     "And now, I will deposit you to battle the Time Crapper II's
     "Hey, FINALLY someone differentiated between TC I and TCII."
     "CAW, don't make me read the collected poems of Rod McKewen
to you." Swordmaster had a headache  THIS   big, and it had duel
to the death with yourself written _all_ over it. With the kind of
shearing sensation that time travel and bad writing can cause, they
were deposited at the Rear-End of time.

     *    *         *    *    *    *    *         *    *

     Meanwhile, in the Sanctum Cleanbowlum of the Time Crapper II,
underneath a gigantic slow dissolve blue capsule, hung the battered
and bruised body of Contraption Man. Yes, Contraption Man. Not the
Contraption Man currently working for wReamicus Maximus, you say?
Well, yes and no. You see..this is him AFTER Retcon Hour, while
that guy is him BEFORE. Head throbbing yet? Hands clammy with
sweat? Having a hard time breathing? It gets worse.
     "Tell us who you work for." The Dark Renegades were
surrounding the limp, battered figure of Contraption Man II. The
Rabid Rat was holding him steady while TIMMY, CAW's duplicate,
smacked him again.
     "I was..working for wReamicus Maximus. I already TOLD you.
I've confessed REPEATEDLY! Why are you still interrogating me?"
     "It's fun and delicious." said TIMMY. 
     "SERVITORS!" The Time Crapper II entered the chamber. The
stench of him came, too, which kind of always happens when
ambulatory poo comes a calling. Somewhere in California, someone
shrieked as the subtlety drought continued.
     "I can't get over how much worse he smells than the other
one." Contraption Man II turned a lovely shade of mauve. The Dark
Renegades tried really hard only to breathe through their
mouths...unfortunately, that means you can almost TASTE it.
Spitting resulted.
     "STOP THAT! Your nauseating originals have arrived."
     "_You_ are calling _them_ nauseating?"
     "Just get out there and destroy them." The team wept with joy
as they ran to do his bidding, after a generous amount of time
spent gargling and rinsing. TCII turned to Contraption Man II, who
blanched as the smell approached him. "So, traitor, tell me...ever
worked in a sewage treatment plant in Russia?"

     *    *         *    *    *    *    *         *    *

     Swordmaster stood out in the open while CAW and the Rodent hid
behind some rocks, not out of cowardice (Well, I can't speak for
the Rodent here) but to gain more of an element of surprise.
Besides, David thought, if this guy is like me, he'll _have_ to
fight me one-on-one to prove he's better than I am. It's good to
recognize your own character flaws, sometimes. The only weakness
_I_ have is that I actually _Like_ the songs and poetry of
Leonard Nimoy.
     Dark Sword rode on TIMMY's back,and the Rabid Rat hung from
his legs. The three of them sped towards their mirror/brothers,
intent on one thing, death and destruction. Well, okay, two things,
death and destruction and chaos. Three things, death, destruction,
chaos, and ripping off old Monty Python bits. Four things. I'd
better stop this now. "TIMMY, how come I only see the real me down
     "Can you see the Real _me_, Dark Sword, Dark Sword?"
     "Rat, don't paraphrase Roger Daltrey. And no, I can't. I'm
going down...you two wait here."
     "Aw, but I want some chicken too."
     "Keep it up, TIMMY, and it's going to be worse than that time
I made you read _The Bridges Of Madison County_."
     "I'll be good." Dark Sword flipped off of TIMMY as the giant
black robot assumed a holding pattern. Swordmaster manifested a
blazing green sword, and Dark Sword generated a red one as he
landed. The two faced off, red and black mask a negative of the
black and red one.
     "So, we finally meet face to face."
     "So we do. According to the Rac.ctre, you've been very busy."
     "And after I kill you, I'll be the undisputed best Swordsman
who ever lived."
     "I was just thinking the same thing. Boy, this is creepy."
     "Yeah. Say, do you think we..."
     "Could finish each other's sentences? Yeah, I..."
     "Bet we could." The two leapt at each other, swords flashing
as they both chose the Natshiko gambit, a Kendo technique, and then
they flowed into De'OLacrin Fencing, and then Scottish-Rite Masonic
shortlaw techniques, into Florentine, Chinese, English, Mayan, and
dozens of others. One would backflip just in time to avoid the
other's savage parry, and likewise. Their even match was a
testimony to skill and grace.
     It also went on and on and on and on and on and on and on and
onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...ehh? Oh, I'm sorry.
I fell asleep into the keyboard. Anyway, it seemed to drag on and
on. CAW and the Rodent, done reading the autobiography of Bryant
Gumbel, _I'M THE GOD!_, came out from hiding, as did TIMMY and the
Rabid Rat. And the fight went on. The four of engaged in savage
     The Rabid Rat leapt, froth pouring from his fangs, at the
Rodent, who bravely shrieked "MOMMY SAVE ME" and would have
released the contents of his GI tract into his bat-suit, except
that he'd pretty much left that all behind him as he'd jumped
through time. A savage beating commenced. You figure out who beat
     CAW faced his enemy. "And who are you supposed to be?"
     "I'm your dark spectre, your nemesis...TIMMY!"
     CAW blinked. Then he activated his laser. "What's that,
Lassie? You say TIMMY's being shot at by another robot?" The two
robots began trading fire.
      And the fight went on. Michael Modine, confused for a second,
showed up but realized that neither Swordmaster nor Dark Sword were
Richard Gere, left. Finally, the two stopped.
     "Boy, this is really..."
     "A big waste of time. Man, I hate the way...
     "We keep doing that. Why are you..."
     "Working for the Time Crapper? He made us with this Gizmo
     "Inverts your personality? You mean like..."
     "Gephardtization, from _Bloom County_? Yeah. And as I
     "That wears off right about now." The two Swordmaster's shook
hands, in a scene reminiscent of Norman Rockwell, apple pie, and
savagely beating on hapless lawyers, just cause they're there, in
that it made everybody feel good to be alive. The Dark Renegades
and the Renegades did the same. "Where there was just one
     "Now there are two of us! Cool."
     "I'm sorry, but that can't be." Came a voice from behind them.
They turned to behold a little red man with six arms, accompanied
by the Grey Visiage of the Rac.ctre.
    "Entity!" Came six voices. "And...Space Ghost?"
     "No. This husky individual is the Rac.ctre, that ghostly voice
who spoke to you before. Or, to be more honest, this is a shade,
a sliver of him split off to communicate with you."
     "You. Mean. He's. The. One. Who. Did..."
     "This. To. Us. In. The. First. Place?" The two Swordmaster's
went to leap, but found that they couldn't.
     "Yes, that'd be me. " He said. "Entity, forseeing that the two
of you would reconcile your teams and leave the Rear-End of Time,
falling right into TCII's hands, came and got me."
     "What do you mean,..."
     "Fall right into his hands?"
     "If the two of you leave here and re-enter the Time Stream,
you'll be doing the impossible...being in two places at once.
wReamicus Maximus would be annihilated as the Looneyverse collapsed
under the strain, much as would Spandex underwear collapse if
Meatloaf tried to wear it. The only thing that would be left would
be no time...and the TCII. He could re-make the universe in any way
he wanted, after that."
     "Why...that evil flatus! Let's..."
     "Give him the kind of beating people reserve for people
wearing Neon Purple Dinosaur costumes!"
     "No, I'm afraid not yet. There is something else you have to
do first...but you can no longer both exist." Entity looked
     Just then, a balding Scotsman dressed up as a Spanish
Astronomer carrying a Japanese sword and a Frenchman in a kilt with
a claymore and a horrible accent stepped out of a time machine.
"There can be only one!" They got back in and left. Then IMPLO
appeared. "I thought I canceled this book! In fact, I'm SURE I did!
What's all this then?"
     "First off, You canceled it as of issue #12. This is issue #0.
It fits inbetween issues, and doesn't count. Second of all, I don't
CARE, as there are PLOT HOLES IN THIS CROSSOVER that need filling.
Third off, the Monty Python references are only funny until someone
gets hurt." With a wave of his hands, Entity folded space time,
sending  him back into Stirge's Errand Boy storyline.
    Rodent, who was still reeling from that Non-Sequitur, said
"I'd rather wrestle a naked Bernard Malamud in a bathtub full of
lime jello."
     "Enough of this. I have a way to fix things." Said Entity. And
waving his hands, tapping his toes, and listening to his Sony
Discman, which was playing Primus's _Sailing the Seas of Cheese_,
he began the chant. "S. A. T. U. R. D. A. Y. Night. S. A. T. U. R.
D. A. Y. Night." 
     FZAAAAM! With a flash (Wally! NOOOO!) of light, a screeching
sound akin to that of normal humans subjected to an episode of
Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Except for the Green Ranger
episode...yon writer actually _Likes_ those. Add that to my list
of weaknesses with Leonard Nimoy's recitation of _Fern Hill._ And
I hope Dylan Thomas can forgive me. That is, assuming he stops
dating Brenda. Or is it Kelly? This digression has been brought to
you in memoriam of the Digressor. Let's all remember his
sacrifice.) the two teams were gone. In their place stood three
     Swordmaster's costume was no longer inappropriately snug, as
it had armored shinguards, forearm guards, and...let's just say
another VITALLY IMPORTANT guard that John Wayne Bobbit forgot. The
costume was red and black, tiger stripe pattern so that it had
elements of Dark Sword and Swordmaster. The mask was now a Smooth
metallic helmet. The whole ensemble gleamed with that "crossover-
element power upgrade" look that always happened back when Jim
Shooter was in charge of things. "Spiffy. Hey, and I'm finishing
my own sentences! But remembering BOTH sets of thoughts is tricky.
I wonder how Patrick Duffy does it."
     The Rodent was still in his slightly ridiculous Bat-Suit, but
now it was clean. Also, his bag 0' semi-useless stuff was refilled.
"ALRIGHT! My collection of used bandages! That album of other bands
covering Vanilla Ice songs! ADVANTAGEOUS!"
     CAW was slightly larger, and all the dents and dings had been
worked out of his shiny yellow hide. He now sported a lovely Time
Machine inside his chest. And he was fully reloaded. "Herro, rou
rimp wristed roccidental rosers! Me and my scary theme music will
dog you to the DEATH! Rrrarrrahaha!"
     "Remember, CAW, the power of your music is the weakness of
your music." Said Swordmaster.
     "Joel, did you just...tell a joke?" Everybody stopped and
stared at Swordmaster.
     "I've finally accepted that I'm never going to be a fencing
correspondent...might as well go along with this gig." Swordmaster
and the Renegades turned to face The Rac.ctre and Entity. "Now
what? We click our heels together? Look for a black doorway? Find
a strange compass on the body of Jon-Eric Hexum? Mug H.G. Wells?
     "Soon, the Retcon energy that's sent you through time will
wear off. It'll take you back home. You should be immune to the
Retcon's now, due to being merged members of two seperated
Timelines at once. That way, the writer can get around his own
idea. When you get to your own time, you'll know what to do." The
Rac.ctre began to fade. "I must get back to prevent the collision.
Good Luck, Load Island Renegades." With a wink and a smile,
he disappeared. Entity looked at the Renegades.
     "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but...good luck. We're
all counting on you." With a soft shoe dance routine that'd put
Fred Astaire to shame, the six armed meddler in reality vanished.
Swordy looked at CAW. "You ready?"
     "All set. TIME TO TAMPER IN GOD'S DOMAIN!" The air around them
began to shimmer.
     "I really wish I'd chosen dentistry." Time rent,and the new
and improved Renegades went...elsewhen.

whenever we get to it.  


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(>)                 RETCON HOUR PART 9              (<)
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(>)           Nicks of Time Limited Series #2       (<)
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Pseudo-Random House proudly presents....

			T H E  N I C K S  O F  T I M E

			      N U M B E R  T W O

		       "N I C K S  A N D  S C R A P E S"

    {with Nicks' special guests:  Sword Master and the Load Island Renegades}

	Nick Eggbeater stood in the middle of a Net.York road in 1944.  His
breakfast shimmered brilliantly in the morning sun around the Entity's feet.
And he stared down two Luger barrels held by the infamous Master of Minutiae,
Nick Naime.
	"Geez you weren't kidding about stiff penalties for vomiting on public
	Nick Naime regarded Nick Eggbeater from beneath his massive dark
eyebrows.  The Agent of PULP appeared of average build, athletic certainly, but
not remarkably so.  He was dressed entirely in black, from shoes to tie.  His
posture indicated a man with very little sense of humor.  "Who are you talking
to miscreant?"
	Nick Eggbeater looked at the Entity then looked back to Nick Naime.
"Comb back those eyebrows.  There's a red, six-armed cosmic being standing next
to me.  He's not here for show."
	"He can't see me, Decibel Dude," said the Entity.
	"Oh.  Well that's going to influence how he takes my last statement.
Why not?"
	"Why not?  This is a period in history when Orson Wells evacuated a 
city for opening a mayonaise jar over the radio.  It's just a feeling that a 
city-wide panic might impede your mission."
	"I'll buy...."
	"Wot's wit' dis guy, Nick?" asked a stocky, short man that stepped out
of the bushes.  He was dressed in a green coverall and cap.  In another time he
might have been a refrigerator repairman, but he was in fact Transmission 
Kwerks, an Agent of PULP.  Nick recognised him from the magazine Entity had 
given him.
	Both Nicks responded simultaneously.  "I don't know."
	"Geez, he's a wiseguy.  Let's take him down a' peg or two."
	Nick motioned with the pistol, directing D-Dude into the bushes of
Ce.Net.ral Park.
	"What say I give 'brows a few million decibels of 'no way.' " Eggbeater
said to his six-armed guide.
	"Forget it.  You're allies, remember?"
	"Doesn't look like anybody told him," grumbled D-Dude as he shuffled
off the street.
	Behind an obscuring copse of foliage, two men and a woman were pinning
a well-dressed man to the turf.  One of the men was Oriental.  Bent over as he
was, he looked like a big yellow cricket with a balloon for a head.  A balloon
with a bad Chinese caricature on it.
	Six-Yen spoke.  "Honolable Missah Naime captu'e nothah climinal.
Confooshus say only need captu'e one lat.  He tu'n ovah all othahs."
	Beside the Chinaman another man stood up.  And up.  And up.  The man
was huge.  Eggbeater's neck hurt from looking up at him.  The blonde giant wore
a lab coat which did little to hide twelve layers of muscle.  His voice was
deceptively bland.  "Well Nick, shall I make him talk?"  That had to be Dr. Dan
"Sinful" Amick-Tention.
	Eggbeater did not like the way this was developing.
	"C'mon Dan, you always get to.  Give a girl a chance for a change."
>From behind the man-mountain, a small woman stepped forward.  She was eye-
popping beautiful.  Pre-nuptual agreement beautiful.  'Hi my name is
glpg-hemama' beautiful.  D-Dude was suddenly grateful Entity had made him
forgo the spandex.
	"Yeah, let her question me."  Eggbeater suddenly found himself face
down eating turf, his arm in an arm-bar and Helen's shapely heel in his back.
	"I kind of had a question and answer thing in mind," mumbled D-Dude
around mouthfuls of Net.York lawn.  He pivoted suddenly, unbalancing the girl
and sending her flying, wrenching his arm in the process.
	"Helen!" pealed Transmission.  He jumped at Eggbeater and began a
furious session of pummelling.
	"Look here (ow) cut that (oof) out, I'm not (ngggh) (erk) wouldja stop
it?!"  Eggbeater lashed out in self-defense, proving that the role playing
games were right.  A normal man didn't stand a chance against a superhero.
Transmission ended up tangled in the bushes, still cursing a blue streak and
trying to get back at Eggbeater.
	D-dude spoke to the Entity.  "Ya mind lending a hand or six?  This
alliance is about as fruitful as Maurey Povich and Connie Chung.  Uh-oh."
	A shadow fell over D-Dude.  He knew it was coming.  He braced for it.
It didn't help much.  Sinful dealt a monstrous blow that would've snapped
D-Dude's neck around like a Linda Blair aerobics excercise, if not for the
damping effect a fatality would have on the narrative.  Even so, D-Dude had a
moment's choice between a halo of stars or birds before his head cleared.
Sinful rocked him again, sending the Soundman Supreme flying through the
bushes.  Sinful waded in after him, his face still utterly bland.
	"Dere ya go Sinful!  Drop a bomb on 'im big guy," cheered Transmission.
	The Agents of PULP eyed the rustling bushes for nearly a quarter-minute
before a thunderous BOOOOM! echoed.  All 280# of Sinful flew back into the
clearing and landed in a crumpled, unconscious pile.  Transmission whistled
softly.  The effect would have been quite awesome if Decibel Dude had not
staggered back out, still a bit punch drunk.
	"Team up with PULP.  It'll be fun," he giggled shrilly.
	Six-Yen stood up.  He was a head taller than Sinful, but barely a hand-
span around.  "Missah Naime, allow honolable se'vant to...."
	Nick Naime holstered his double luger.  "No.  He's mine."  The Master
of Minutiae leapt forward feinting with numerous martial arts moves.  The
punch-drunk Decibel Dude proved easy to fake, and Nick landed blow after blow
in what could have been a picture perfect martial arts demonstration.  In fact,
it went page-for-page from the manual he'd read (and hence memorized) that
	Despite the hand-to-hand clinic being practiced on his body, D-Dude's
heart stubbornly refused to listen to his brain's pleas to shut the blood flow
the hell off.  D-Dude's brain threatened heart mumers, palpitations, even the
Sandra Bernhardt Playboy spread, but D-Dude's heart didn't listen.  That's a
lot of heart folks.  D-Dude had to keep fighting.  The one or two blows he did
land, bolstered by his sonic 'brass knuckles,' sent Nick Naime flying, but
thanks to time-honored teamup tradition there was no clear winner.
	The fight eventually stalemated when Nick Naime's memory reached the
end of the manual and D-Dude was still standing, albeit unsteadily.  The Master
of Minutiae wiped his bloody mouth as he circled D-Dude.  D-Dude chanted
"Adrian!  Adrian!"
	Helen's shrill scream captured both their attention.  The well-dressed
man that PULP had captured had jumped up in the confusion and started fleeing.
A large black limo pulled up to the curb, the doors popped open, and a hail of
gunfire erupted.  It pinned the Agents of PULP and D-Dude, who was glad for any
excuse to collapse onto the ground, as the man got in.  The coach roared off.
	Nick squinted his massive black 'brows.  "Perhaps our pugilist is not
a member of the Gimmick Gang after all," he mused.
	"And I'd'a got away with it too if not for you kids and that dog!"
slurred D-Dude.  "Now that we're pals, I'll stop that guy for you."  Decibel
Dude leapt up, trying to take flight.  How that would have gone over in 1944
would temporarily remain a mystery, for unfortunately he leapt headlong into
the bole of a mighty tree.


	Nick Eggbeater woke to see Helen's face leaning over him.  Which, after
the Sandra Bernhardt scare, was a fairly welcome thing.  A goofy smile crossed
his face unitl he saw the Entity behind her, his arms crossed in a compicated
array that must have required eons of practice.
	"He's up Nick," said Helen.  The darkly dressed Nick Naime came over.
	"Hello Mr. Eggbeater.  I'm Nick Naime.  You've met Helen Weils,
Emmanuel Emmanual 'Transmission' Kwerks, Dr. Dan 'Sinful' Amick-Tention and
Sing-Song 'Six-Yen'.  We are the PULP Institute."
	"How do you know my name?"  Nick Naime wordlessly held up D-Dude's
Net.Ropolis Driver's License, clearly stamped 'expires 1992.'  "Well, yeah,
I've been meaning to get that fixed...."
	"What is it?"
	Transmission interrupted.  "More importantly, wot da heck is dis?"  In
his grubby fist was a pulp magazine titled "Nick Naime, Agent of PULP" which
wasn't so odd, except for the 1947 print date.  And the cover art which
proclaimed "Final Stupendous Issue where Nick and crew Battle the Insidious
	Nick Eggbeater sighed.  "Ok it's like this.  I'm from the future.
Thanks to a lot of really twisted events which I myself don't believe, I had to
chase two supervillains into the past to get the, uh, Tiara of Density."
	"The Tiara!" exclaimed Helen.
	"You've heard of it?"
	Nick Naime's quiet voice explained.  "The Tiara of Density is one of
the most sacred relics of the Alt.odox Christian religion.  Folklore says it is
what the widow of the thief crucified next to Christ spent her insurance money
	"Nick read about it a coupla days ago," confided Transmission.
	"It's curious that you bring it up.  Religious artifacts from all over
the world have been dissappearing.  The Tiara was one of them.  In fact, we
captured you thinking you were a member of the Gimmick Gang.  They are planning
to steal a set of Mormon relics on display at the Net.ropolitan Museum."
	"Mormon Relics?" asked Nick Eggbeater.  "And you better get all the
exposition out on this one 'cause I'm not asking any more leading questions."
	"Yeah, dat's usually my job," said Transmission.
	"The Relics in question are the Fez of Prophecy and the Mini-Car of
Redemption."  Eggbeater just stared at Nick Naime.  "John Smith was a Mason,"
said the Master of Minutiae defensively.
	" 'The Fez of Prophecy?'  How can you say that with a straight face?"
	"I didn't laugh during your story either.  Who did you say you were
	"The, uh, Time Mime and Chronos the Clown," said D-Dude uncomfortably.
	"I see.  And you balked at the 'Fez of Prophecy'?  Your story doesn't
even make sense.  If you're really from the future, why didn't you just get the
Tiara in your own time?"
	Eggbeater looked angrily at the Entity, whom the Agents of PULP still
couldn't see.
	The six-armed being gave a nervous smile.  "Wow.  I uh, woah, look at
the time.  Well I can see you're in good hands here so I'll be off...."  The
red alien disappeared before Eggbeater could throttle him.  D-Dude looked back
around.  The Agents of PULP were giving each other meaningful looks and
spinning their fingers at their temples.
	"I don't have to stand for this!  I'm the straight man in my own book!"
Which of course didn't help reverse PULP's diagnosis.


	Nick Naime, Nick Eggbeater and the Agents of PULP were hiding in the
Net.York:1994 exhibit at the Net.ropolitan Museum.  The exhibit consisted of a
bright clean Net.York of skyscrapers and balloon cars zipping among them, 
pedestrians waving to robotic policemen, and huge assembly lines creating meals
that patrons could order in minutes.  The balloon car hiding Sinful dipped
extremely low.
	"Ey Eggbeater," whispered Transmission.  "If you're from da future, 
why you chasin' criminals at all?  In fi'ty years dey'll wipe out crime."
	"Whoo!  Hey, as a futurist you make a great rodeo clown Manny."  
Eggbeater had discovered that the little mechanic hated his given name.
Impotent, obscene spluttering came from Transmission's hiding place.
	"Shh," hissed Nick Naime.  "That janitor was in the car that shot at us
this morning."
	D-Dude squinted at the cleaning man down below.  "You're right Holmes!
Why by the way he carries that mop he could only have weilded a gun in the last
twelve hours.  Plus I think his brother's diet is failing and his foreign
investments have taken a turn for the worse!"  The sarcasm threatened to 
create a swimming pool as it dripped to the floor below.
	"Yeah?" asked Transmission.
	Sinful quietly added to the conversation that would have echoed through
the museum if not for D-Dude's active damping of sound.  "Nick has a short-term
photographic memory, Mr. Eggbeater.  Everything he sees, he remembers to the 
smallest detail.  For about six weeks.  If he says that's our man, that's our 
	As they watched, the 'janitor' looked both ways, then drew a pistol 
and whistled softly.  Four other men and one woman padded softly by, on their
way to the Fez of Prophecy exhibit.  Moments later, a great commotion broke 
out, accompanied by flashes of light.
	"Let's go!" said Nick Naime.
	Eggbeater seemed to recognise some of the voices.  He looked green.


               FIVE MINUTES EARLIER:

     Jimmie DeVice and his wife Jeri Rigg were gimmicky. It was in
their blood. In fact, unbeknownst to them, it was inheritable, but
that's a story for a later date. Anyway, they had always loved
Gimcracks, doo-dads and thingies...especially thingies. All their
beloved Gimmicks worked according to the best weird science
Sorry.) of the pulp era they lived in.
     Like now, for instance. Jimmy and Jeri had designed a
Etherotronic Bubble that allowed them to fill an area with the
ether that floats between the planets, allowing them undetectable
    "Give me the Orthoscopic pry bar, my pet."
     "Certainly, Sugar Dumpling. Hey, nameless thugs, guard the
door in case someone comes in." Jimmie handed his blushing bride
the equally implausable tool of theft. Suddenly, a bright flash of
light went off behind them. They turned to investigate, confident
in their ability as the Gimmick Gang to deal with this threat.
     They saw a giant yellow thing made of metal, a man in an
obviously homemade Bat suit with indeterminate stains on it, an
older gentleman with the gleam of madness in his eyes, and standing
in the middle of the group holding two glowing swords was a most
un-PULP spandex clad mystery man. The spectacle caught the thugs
off guard too, and they just stood around with their Tommy Guns not
at the ready.
     "What in the name of Joseph Cambell's sympatheic wave
principle?" The Gimmick Gang had no idea what was going on, and
when the big metal guy yelled, "JOEL! Scofflaws! Miscreants!
Crooks, even! And Heaven's To Murgatroid, they're stealing that
     "Fez thieves? FEZ THIEVES?"
     "Thugs!" Jeri regained her composure first and began rigging
up a Ninth Metal Harpoon Gun. "TAKE THEM!"
     Bullets flew. All sorts of priceless artifacts were shredded
and perforated, but the man in spandex was gone, leaping over the
shuddering Tommy Guns to land behind the thugs. Then he <NOTE: Due
to the lack of sexual explicitness in this comic, I won't describe
what Swordy did to the thugs or where the Tommy Guns ended up.> and
leapt straight at Jimmy DeVice. He REALLY didn't want the costumed
maniac to get his hands on him, so he activated his Thomason Two
Places at Once Bracers, making him be in Two places at once. Swordy
landed in front of the Fez and spun, blocking the Ninth Metal
Harpoon, which was made of Flesh-Magnetic metal. It tired to veer
back at him, and he blocked it _again_.
     "CAW! Some assistance? Before I get a pierced _head_ from this
     "Sure thing, Joel. But Ranger Smith's not gonna like...THIS!"
>From CAW's hand deployed a large barrel, with a red lens on the
end. He pointed it at the Gimmick Gang, who began hastily cobbling
together a anti-gunpowder field that would transmute all bullets
into inert lead by alchemical process.
     The laser wasn't hampered by it, however, and just barely
missed burning a huge hole in Jeri's head. "Um, JellyBelly bear?"
     "Yes, Snugglepuggums?"
     "Let's get out of here." The two of them ran. The LIR would
have followed except for the nasty flesh-seeking harpoon the two
of them left behind was now chasing the Rodent. "Not the butt! Not
the butt! I still have two payments left!"

	Decibel Dude led the Agents of PULP forward, trying hard not to fly.
Sinful had been unable to get out of the paper mache balloon car and wore it 
about his waist.  The six thundered forward only to crash into another group.
Pistols went flying, people tripped over each other, the whole scene kinda
looked like time-lapse Team Twister.  Nick Naime found himself eye-to-eye 
	"Oberundunderfuhrer Karl Eidescop!"
	"Ve meet again Herr Naime...."
	D-Dude groaned.  "No, please, tell me he didn't just say 'we meet
again.'  Anyone? Please?  Cliche police save me!"
	Transmission growled low and leapt for the Net.si spy.  The man was 
responsible for the deaths of Transmission's mom and cousin and Helen's Dad.
The little repairman's action sparked a sudden frenzy of groping and wrestling
that, but for the gender and clothed status of the participants, could have 
been a Howard Stern pay-per-view bonanza.
	After several confused moments, Nick Naime agilely tumbled from the 
pack in a move displayed by the Bar.Net and B.Alt.y Circus two weeks ago.
Sinful bodily tossed Net.si spies about, Six-Yen wriggled through like a
sinuous yellow python and Helen and Transmission did their best to chase down 
the fleeing Karl Eidescop.
	Nick Eggbeater was doubly glad he was not in spandex after a moment's 
groping.  Using his pent up aural energy he unleashed a deafening BOOOM that
scattered PULPster and Net.Si alike about the room.


    Finally Swordmaster got sick of dancing with the Harpoon and
after a deadly game of cat and mouse that had ranged far and wide
over the museum, leapt off of CAW's back, slicing the thing into
Kielbasa Wedges. "Is everybody okay?"
     "I am, son." Dad climbed out of the tiny car that was near the
fez. "And rest assured that those two never so much as _Touched_
this here car."
     "All right, who did that! Was that you, Rodent?"
     "Not me."
     "Was it you, CAW?"
     "I take care of the place while the Master is away."
     "I went in Came.Alt, son."
     "Hmmm...Let's go check it out, then."


	Nick Naime and Nick Eggbeater dashed after Karl Eidescop, who bolted 
for the Fez display.  The remaining Net.sis battled the Agents of PULP 
hand-to-hand.  Eidescop grabbed for the display case, but got tackled from 
behind by Nick Eggbeater.  "Hands off Fritz.  Oh god.  Now I sound like a bad 
war movie too."
	Nick Naime grabbed the Fez.  No sooner did he touch it than visions 
filled his head.  Visions of an atomic bomb over Hiroshima, visions of costumed
men and women fighting and cracking jokes, visions of the all-ashtray cable 
channel, visions of his ally Nick Eggbeater destroying Mexico, no scratch that.
Finally, a vision of the combination to Hitler's safe.  The dark man was 
stunned, his massive eyebrows contorted frantically, like two fat black 
catipillars fighting.
	A random Net.si who we'll call 'Hans' except not in front of Nick 
Eggbeater for fear of another cliche rant, took advantage of Nick Naime's 
immobility to shove a pistol to his head.  Eidescop's voice rose above the 
	"Vunderbar!  Surrender mein foes or your leater is shot!"  D-Dude and 
the Agents of PULP ceased fighting.  Eidescop addressed Nick's captor.  "Hans!"
He cast a nervous glance at D-Dude.  "Er, I mean Hansenschutzen.  Collect zie 
relic und let us be off!"  The Net.sis, complete with Fez gathered at the far 
end of the hall, pointing guns at Nicks et al.  "It appears ve did not need to
hire ze Gimmick Gank after alles.  Nefah leaf to Americans vhat can be done by 
ze Master Race."  (Isn't this where they break into a chorus of 'Heil Hitlers?"
asked D-Dude.)  "Let us not say aufveidershen.  Instead let us zay, Rest In 
Peace.  Fire mein solchers!"  The Net.sis opened fire on the helpless Agents.
Fortunately, D-Dude had seen enough old movies to anticipate Net.si treachery.
He threw up a sound sheild that protected the Agents of PULP, but rocked the 
house like a Guns'n'Roses/ACDC 'this one goes to 11' competition.  They 
retreated to the other room for cover.  Transmission had managed to get behind
the wheel of the MiniCar (which didn't look so small on him) of Redemption and 
Sinful was still wearing the paper mache display (which looked mighty small and
not a little rediculous to boot).
	"Well, well.  C'mon in guys."  The Gimmick Gang was waiting.


     Swordmaster and CAW were just rounding the corner into the
Extremely Rare and Valuable Object D'Art wing of the museum when
they walked straight into the Net.sis. In fact, Swordy knocked
Oberundunderfuhrer Karl Eidescop down.
     "Oh, terribly sorry."
     "No, no, cvumsy mein, neffer lookink vhere I am...vait a
minute..." The same type of thought occured to Swordmaster as he
finished patting down Eidescop's hat and handed it back to him.
     "Wait a minute..you're a.."
     "Viore a bunchk a.."
     "HERVOES!" The two turned to their respective groups and
yelled "GET THEM!" Except Karl did it with that German Accent and
I can't fake it well. "_Jinx_." Swordy backhanded the Net.si swine,
forgetting in the heat of the moment on salient fact...he was
superhuman. Karl slammed through his own men and smashed the last
remaining piece of Minoan Crete's once vast pottery collection. CAW
began firing his laser indiscriminately (What does that make how
he usuall fires it?), accidentally setting Leonardo DaVinci's last
painting on fire. The Net.sis opened fire, turning the gold plated
box with angels on top of it and two familiar looking stone tablets
in it into spattered fragments. The Rodent accidentally broke the
Stone of scone, which was on loan, over a Net.sis head. Dad hid
under the Sarcophagus of Osiris the Great himself, first ruler of
Egypt, as bullets blasted every piece of Lapis Lazuli, every
emerald, and all the precious metals, reducing it to kindling. 
     Eidescop chose that moment to pick himself up off the floor
and run, holding his stinging jaw and cursing the spandex-clad
intruder. If he had to fake his own death, move to South America,
and spend millions of Net.si treasure to build himself a cybernetic
body, he would have vengance, assuming that he didn't just write
it off as a life lesson well learned.
     The few remaining Net.sis folowed suit. Swordy and the LIR
looked at the ruins of the room as the curator burst it.
     "AAAAAAAIGH! Oh my GOD! It's all destroyed! This is a complete
fiasco!" Caw walked up to the only thing left unscathed in the
entire room, The Roman Emperor Nero's lute and picked it up.
     "Hey, this is all right." He went to give it to the curator,
and then dropped it. It smashed into a million pieces.
     Swordmaster looked at the Rodent. "Okay, _Now_ it's a complete
fiasco." Then the wounded Net.sis, given a breather by this
pointless exchange, grabbed their guns and started running back
towards where the Fez was. Swordmaster didn't know WHY, but he was
gonna stop those fascists, even if he had to destroy the museum to
do it. "I'm gonna stop those fascists if I have to destroy this
entire museum to do it!"
     The curator rolled up into a ball and began to wail at the LIR
pursued the Net.sis.


	"Agents!  Shoot down the wire supports on the display!" called the 
Master of Minutiae.  Six-Yen, Helen and Sinful all shot into the air.  Six-Yen
and Helen's shots peirced the wires, raining papermache balloon cars onto the 
Gimmick Gangs heads.  Art lovers don't want to know how wild Sinful's shots
	"I don't know much about guns, but V-Guy is gonna be sorry he missed 
this," muttered D-Dude as he BOOMed Gimmick Gangsters to the ground.  Nick 
Naime, armed with his double Luger, shot two Gangsters.
	"Hey!  You just shot those guys!  Dead!"
	"Is there another way to shoot them?" asked Nick Naime drily.
	"But you had your men shoot into the air....Cripes!  What is it about 
you that makes me ask these expository questions?!?"
	"It's Nick's code," said Helen.  "He's the only one allowed to do the 
	"So I can see we're on real firm moral ground here."
	"Are you telling me none of the heroes from your time kill criminals?"
	"Weeeeelll, look are we going to talk or fight?"
	Jeri and Jimmie had been searching their pockets for suitable gimmicks,
but appeared to have lost most of their tools retreating from the Sword Master.
	"Yes Tinker-buns?"
	"We're in big trouble."
	While the others fought, Transmission had popped the hood to the
MiniCar of Redemption.  As the best mechanic in the western hemisphere, he
quickly tuned the engine then closed the hood.  He revved the laughably small
car loudly.
	"Awright joes, let's end dis real quick."  Transmission roared through 
the Net.York:1994 display like a Montezuma chocolate bar, spilling artwork, 
statues, exhibits and Gangsters like tenpins.  He screeched to a halt inches 
from Eggbeater.  "Dat oughtta do it future boy.  Now, let's get dem Net.sis."
	Sounds of battle were clearly audible from the next room.


     "CAW!" Swordmaster had an idea as they chased after the
Net.sis, which had already resulted in half the treasures of
Western Culture being lost. Then they burst into the Oriental
Fragile Stuff wing of the museum.
     "What, Joel?"
     "Before we destroy EVERYTHING in this museum, do you have any
gas grenades left?"
     "Two of 'em. Why?"
     "LOB 'EM!" Swordmaster grabbed CAW and his father and dragged
them under a huge marble table.
     "THIS'S A BUG HUNT, MAN! GAME OVER, MAN!" CAW launched the
first grenade, but his aim was off, and it ricocheted off of the
first dynasty Ming Vase (SMASH!), the Korean Ta'ana Dragon
(SHATTER!), the Clay Figures buried in the tomb of Ameratsu No Kami
(CRASH! PLINK! SHING! KA-PING!), sveral earthenware jugs that were
the oldest man made pots on the face of the earth (BIG TINKLE
SMASH!) and out the door, where it then hit the exit sign, the
Curator's still fetal back, Jimmy Durante (What's HE doing here?),
several sharp angles, A grecian urn (Quiet. Do you hear it? The
sound of John Keats screaming from beyond the grave?), the behind
of a rather stout woman, and the Mona Lisa. Then it landed in the
midst of the Agents of Pulp, and went off.
     Meanwhile, back at the breakables section, the Net.sis were
laughing. CAW held up a hand and silenced them. "I know something
you don't know."
     "Und vhat vould that be, tin man?"
     "Joel's not left handed." Leaping in a triple somersault and
executing the difficult Narada Kenyan Sword-fan manoeuver, within
seconds Swordmaster had dismarmed the five Net.sis.
     "Bot...vhat's nut puzzible!"
     "Neither is this. Give my regards to John Banner, you Ret.si
dogs!" Using old, tried and true fisticuffs, the futuristic fencer
beat the stuffing out of the German jerks. Just as he was dusting
his hands off after a job well done, he felt that familiar tingle.
     "Here we go again. Wonder what all this was about?"
     "Pointless mayhem?" Suggested Rodent.
     "Multiple Exposure." Offered Dad.
     "Little midget theives who go through time stealing things and
befriending Terry Gilliam and Sean Connery?" Everybody looked at
CAW as they blinked out of the Museum.


	The gas filled the room too quickly for anything but the most
expository of dialogue.
	Nick Eggbeater.  "Don't (cough cough) you vintage crimefighters always
(hack cough) carry gas masks or something?"
	Nick Naime.  "(hough hack) Good idea.  I'll have to remember that. 
	Transmission managed to point the MiniCar of Redemption to another 
room and floor it before he was overcome.  He was the only one that got away.
	Karl Eidescop and the remaining Net.sis waltzed in wearing gas masks.
"Now ve haff ze Fez and ze verdammt Achents uff PULP both!  HAHAHAHAHA!"


	Nick, Nick, Helen, Sinful and Six-Yen awoke deep in Net.si Germany, in
the heart of a Net.si prison camp.  CAW's gas had plot-advancing properties.
An evil-looking German with a pointy head regarded them through slit eyes.
"Velcom to Shtalag 61.  I am your host, Oberdaribberundtrudawoodsenfurher Heime
Blitzkreigkopf.  You haff ze secret uff ze Fez uff Prophecy...."
	"No, please, don't say it," pleaded a groggy Nick Eggbeater.
	"....und ve haff vays of makink you talk!"  Decibel Dude screamed the
scream of the damned.


	Transmission Kwerks sat in a military boardroom, facing all kinds of
high ranking American generals.
	"It ain't just fer me dat we need ta rescue dem.  Dem Net.sis stole da
Fez an' could win da war if Nick don't stop 'em."
	"And how do you know this Mr. Kwerks?"
	The MiniCar of Redemption told him.  "I just do, dats all.  Look Nick's
saved dis country's bacon like no one since Boy Lad.  We owe 'im."
	"Ok Mr. Kwerks.  The nation's highest ranking generals have nothing
better to do in the middle of World War II than grant the wishes of mechanics 
from Queens.  We'll put our best man on it."  An extremely hairy man walked 
into the shadowy room smoking an obnoxious cigar.
	"Transmission Kwerks, meet Sargeant Nick Furry."








Decibel Dude is the property of the Tick.
Sword Master is the property of the Badger.
Nick Furry was created by Drizzt.
Concept makes Dave wonder why he ever voiced the idea in the first place.

Jeff J McCoskey with considerable Badger Help
(As an excercise at home, pick out the portions by each author!  Hint:  you
won't be sleeping during Badge's stuff.)

 _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _  
(<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) 
 _                                                   _
(>)                 RETCON HOUR PART 11             (<)
 _                                                   _
(>)                Generation Y Annual #1           (<)
 _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _   _  
(<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) (<) (>) 

  ___ ______ ___   __  ____ ______ ______ ______ __ ______ ___   __ __   __
 /___\\ ___//  |  / // ___// __  // __  //     // // __  //  |  / / \ \_/ /
/ //~~\\ _// /| |/ // ___// /=/ // /=/ / ~~  ~~/ // /=/ // /| |/ /===\   /=
\ ~~~ // // / |   //    //  ~~ |/  ~~ /   / / / //  ~~ // / |   /     | |
 ~~~~~ ~~ ~~  ~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~   ~~~~  ~~    ~~  ~~ ~~~~~~ ~~  ~~~~      ~~~

                  Annual #1 -- "And Then There Were None"
          By Martin Phipps with Jeff McCoskey and Mystic Moongoose

Net.ropolis Cemetary:

  "It's OK," wReamhack told his teammates, "we're going to advance the
plot in this Annual. [IMPLO cancelled _Generation Y_ in Generation Y #8
  "Can we do that?" Bizarre Boy asked.
  "There's precedent," wReamhack explained.  "The last New Mutants
Annual came out after the series was cancelled."
  "I hope we don't come back as Y-Force," Bad-Timing Boy mused.
  "What now?" Continuity Champ Junior asked.
  "We're going to have to get the Ring of Retcon," wReamhack said firmly.
"Thing is, there's only one of it amongst all the different net.realities
so it's present location could be in a different timeline."
  "What?!" Bizarre Boy asked.  "What if the timeline containing the
Ring of Retcon were to diverge?  Don't you get different Rings of Retcon
amongst the various timelines?"
  "Don't ask me!" wReamhack complained.  "I don't write this stuff!"
  "If the Ring of Retcon _is_ in another timeline then how do we get
it?" Continuity Champ Junior asked.
  wReamhack smiled.  "I remember from when I was doing the roster that
Bizarre Boy's powers are completely unspecified."
  "So?" Bad-Timing Boy asked.
  "So he might very well be capable of locating the Ring of Retcon and
taking us to it; all he need to is concentrate his... powers on it,"
wReamhack explained as he waved his hands in the air.
  "But with all the retroactive continuity taking place we can't be sure
about any of our powers anymore," Continuity Champ Junior countered.
  "Even better!" wReamhack concluded.
  Bizarre Boy sighed.  "It's worth a try... but I've never tried
travelling to different timelines; I'm not sure what might happen."
  Continuity Champ Junior nodded.  "Let's join hands: we'll all
concentrate together."
  "Cool!" interjected Bad-Timing Boy.  "It'll be like a seance!"
  "Exactly!"  They joined hands.
  "OK... here goes."

               ===========     ============

  "Nothing happened."
  "It's OK, Biz," wReamhack told him, "we'll just have to think of
something else.  Say, Double Deja Dude, what about you?  In addition to
travelling to different newsgroups could you also take us to a different
  Double Deja Dude grimaced.  "Sure... but how are we supposed to find
one ring amongst all the multilooniverses?"
  Bizarre Boy turned to look at the person he _thought_ was Continuity
Champ Junior.  "'Double Deja Dude'?"
  Bizarre Boy gasped.  "Something _did_ happen!"
  "What?" Bad-Timing Boy asked.
  "We've just had another retcon: Continuity Champ Junior has become
'Double Deja Dude'!  My G*d, Aili was right!"  Bizarre Boy started to
panic.  "Oh no!  What if it's been me all along?!  What if these retcons
happen every time I use my powers?!"
  "You're forgetting about the Time Crapper," Continuity Champ Junior
told him, "and the move to rec.arts.comics.creative."
  "It's probably a coincidence," wReamhack told him.
  "But this time I remember things the way they were!  Do you know what
this means?  It means that people we've known for months have suddenly
ceased to exist!"
  "All the more reason for us to see to it that things are set right,"
wReamhack assured him.  "If you're right and you _can_ trigger retcons
then we should try again: perhaps this is a way we could learn to put
things back to normal."
  "No!  I don't want to take the chance!  What if I make things worse?!"
  "If two of our friends have ceased to exist then what could be worse
than that?"
  Bizarre Boy preferred not to answer.  "OK... I'll try."  They joined
hands once more.

               ===========     ============

  "OK, everybody tell me who you are."
  "Ba-aaa-aaa-ad-Singing Bo-ooo-ooo-oy!"
  "LurkerwReam" came a voice seemingly from nowhere.
  "You've all changed!" Bizarre Boy concluded.

               ===========     ============

  "OK, everybody call out your name."
  "Uh... Impeccably-Honest Lad.  Heh."
  "Actually, that's Bad-Lying Boy.  I'm WorkerwReam and this," continued
WorkerwReam, handling the introductions all by himself, "is Cliche Dude
  "The one and only!"
  Bizarre Boy grimaced.  "This isn't working out."
  "You can't give up now!" Cliche Dude Junior told him.
  Bizarre Boy nodded.  "Alright."

               ===========     ============

  "OK, who are you?"
  >GACK!< >GACK!< >GACK!< "Bad-..." >GACK!< >GACK!< "Coughing Boy!"
  "Y'all can call me wReamhick!"
  "Kid Irony.  Why do you ask?"
  Bizarre Boy buried his face in his hands.  "It's getting worse!"
  "Y'all got to keep trying, y'hear?"
  Bizarre Boy let out a deep sigh.  "OK... one last time."

               ===========     ============

  "OK, let's hear it."
  "Bad-Poetry Boy you see... because Bad-Poetry Boy I be!"
  Bizarre Boy's eyes lit up.  "Really?  Does that mean that you're an
even closer representation of wReam himself than either wReamhack or
Ultimate Ninja?"
  "Nevermind.  Do you think you could re-retcon things back to normal."
  WriterwReam shook his head.  "Sorry, I don't have time.  I haven't
even been reading LNH stuff lately.  Why?  Am I supposed to?"
WriterwReam gave Bizarre Boy a look of mock embarrassment.
  "Great," Bizarre Boy said sarcasticly.  He turned to his third
teammate and noticed that his costume was now ladden with pockets.
"Pocket Man Junior, I presume."
  Bizarre Boy slapped his forehead.  "@#$%!  Why didn't I think of him
sooner?!  Pocket Man's pockets reach into different realities, right?
For all we know the Ring of Retcon is sitting in one of his pockets!"
  "Just a moment!" Pocket Man Junior interjected.  "Before you go
bothering my idol and mentor, let me check my pockets!"  He started
running his hands through his pockets.
  A satisfying smile came across Pocket Man Junior's face.  Seeing as
how his hand had been in one of his shirt pockets and not one of his
trouser pockets, his teammates considered this promising.  Sure enough,
Pocket Man Junior managed to produce a shiny, golden ring embossed with
letters from an alphabet of unknown (retconned away?) origin.
  "That's it!" WriterwReam announced.
  "Put it on!" Bizarre Boy insisted.
  "OK."  He put on the ring and raised his fist in the air.  Lightening
flashed.  The theme to _Hercules_ played in the background.  "I REMEMBER!
  "The time has come; the time is now," sang Bad Poetry Boy, "to put
things right... and you know how!"
  "Yes!" pleaded Bizarre Boy.  "Hurry!"
  Lightening flashed once more.

Back in Legion Headquaters, specifically Pizza Girl's room:


  "Leave me alone!" Pizza Girl insisted.  "I don't want to see anyone!"
  She did not, however, leave the door locked.  "Not even me?"
  She looked up.  "UNCLE VINNIE?"
  "What's a matter, Aili?  Did you forget all about your Uncle Vinnie?"
  Pizza Girl wiped her tears.  "No, Uncle... never."  She went to hug

Back in Net.ropolis Cemetary:

  Bizarre Boy looked down at his red costume and then looked behind him
to see his cape catch the wind.  "This looks right," he said with a
  "So is that it?" Bad-Timing Boy asked.  "Have we beaten the Time
  "Hardly," wReamhack told him, "but we're regaining lost ground!"
  "And that's not all!" came a voice from behind him.
  "INSOMNIA BOY!" Continuity Champ Junior shouted.
  "And I've got Squeaky with me!"
  "Und Taipo Ladd tu!"
  "The old Sidekick Squad, back in existance!" Insomnia Boy said with
a hint of sadness.  He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Squeaky, I'm sorry..."
  "It's OK."  Squeaky Clean laughed.  "It's not as if either of us
ever had much of a role in LNH continuity!"
  "Excellent!" Continuity Champ Junior announced.  "We're almost back
to full strength!"
  Suddenly wReamhack's LNH communicator started beeping.  He tapped it.
"wReamhack here."
  >>wReamhack, it's Multi-Tasking Man, you and your team had better
get to downtown Net.ropolis: the Knightforce Elite is back!  [See
Pliable Lad #22 --MFP]<<
  "Are there any Legionaires already there?" Continuity Champ Junior
  >>Just three: Rescue Lad, Echo Lad and Kid Unknown.  Kid Chivalry and
Gestalt Lad are on their way.<<
  "'Kid Unknown'?  'Gestalt Lad'?" wReamhack asked.
  "They'll be slaughtered!" Bad-Timing Boy exclaimed.
  "Isn't there anyone else you can spare?" Continuity Champ Junior
  >>I'm sorry but we can't leave LNHHQ open to any more attacks.
[Most recently from The Dark Renegades in System Corruptors #16 --MFP]
Wait!  I might be able to get through to Kid Kirby!  The temporal
distortion around the Drizztsat seems to have cleared up!<<
  Continuity Champ Junior grimaced.  "They're dead... unless."
  "Unless what?" Squeaky Clean asked.
  Continuity Champ held up the fist which had the Ring of Retcon.
"Using this I could see to it that we were already there!"
  "No!" wReamhack insisted.  "You're a Guardian of Continuity,
remember?  You can't allow yourself to be tempted by the ring into
shaping continuity to suit your own designs!  You'd be just like
the Time Crapper!"
  Continuity Champ Junior shook his head.  "There's no other choice!
We owe it to Echo Lad."  He held his fist up in the air.  Lightening
struck once more and they were gone.

               ===========     ============

  "This isn't downtown Net.ropolis," Bad-Timing Boy observed.
  Continuity Champ Junior's mouth dropped as he eyed the immense
structure around him.  "It looks like some kind of church.  What
  "I've got a bad feeling about this," Insomnia Boy said.
  "FOOLS!"  They all looked up and saw wReamicus Maximus on a balcony
above them.  "Continuity Champ Junior may possess the Ring of Retcon
but his will is weak!  _I_ brought you here!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
  "You send us back or..."
  "Or what little Champ?"
  "There are seven of us," Squeaky Clean pointed out.
  "Indeed," wReamicus Maximus replied with a smile, "nor am I alone."
He gestured down to the other end of the room.  "Behold the Legion of
Unliving Legionaires: Fratulance Lad, Lost Cause Boy, Myk-El and
Radioactive Dude!"
  "It isn't really them!" Continuity Champ Junior insisted.  "They're
just phantoms that he's retconned into existance!"
  "Really?" wReamicus Maximus taunted.  "Then perhaps you can use your
ring to retcon them away!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

  "This guy is really getting on my nerves!" Insomina Boy complained.
  "Too bad," "Radioactive Dude" told him.
  Insomnia Boy swallowed hard.
  "You know, I really _hate_ these gratuitous fight scenes," Squeaky
Clean mused.  "Radioactive Dude" grabbed them both and knocked their
heads together, rendering them unconscious.  "Who's next?"

  _I never trusted that big brainless brute,_ Bad-Timing Boy thought
as he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and
"Radioactive Dude".
  "Where are you going?"
  Bad-Timing Boy looked up to see "Myk-El".  "Myk-El, my old friend!
It's good to see you alive again!  Why I we were just visiting your
  "Is that so?  So what did you do?  Hang around the headstone?"
  "Actually we were there to exume your body and take a look --"
Bad-Timing Boy never got a chance to finish his sentence: "Myk-El"'s
fist saw to that.

  "You _can't_ be Lost Cause Boy!" wReamhack told him.
  "Why not?"
  "Lost Cause Boy is dead!"
  "So was Superman!"
  "But you stood for integrity!"
  "Lost Cause Boy" grimaced.  "So I did... but since when did the
other Legionaires care about integrity?  Even my 'friends' in the
Net.Patrol!  I mean, what kind of funeral was that?!  Squid Boy
got a better funeral and he's back!  Seems to me I'm entitled to
something better than I got and how you're all going to suffer!"
"Lost Cause Boy" grabbed wReamhack's throat and held him up in the
  "Lost Cause Boy, NO!"  wReamhack drifted into unconsciousness.

  Pop tarts were piling up on the church floor as Typo Lad faced off
against Flatulance Lad.  [Don't ask! --MFP]  Eventually, Typo Lad
lost concentration and succommed to Flatulance Lad's power.  After
holding his breath for a few minutes, he too lost consciousness.
Bizarre Boy found himself alone against the Legion of Unliving
  "Oh @#$%!"

Meanwhile, on the balcony:

  "Why aren't you with your friends?" wReamicus Maximus asked Continuity
Champ Junior.
  "Because it's like I said: they're only phantoms; you're the only real
villain here!"
  "Really?"  wReamicus Maximus looked down to see Bizarre Boy getting
pummelled by "Radioactive Dude, Myk-El and Lost Cause Boy".  "They
look solid enough to me."
  "You know what I mean!"  Continuity Champ Junior raised his fist.
"Make them go away or I'll turn this church into a warehouse!"
  wReamicus Maximus smiled.  "Ah, the first apostle of Continuity Champ
losing faith in the preservation of continuity!  Excellent!"  With a
wave of his hand, wReamicus Maximus made the Legion of Unliving
Legionaires disappear.  Bizarre Boy was not getting up, however.
In one motion, wReamicus Maximus then turned to face Continuity Champ
Junior and grabbed the hand of Continuity Champ Junior upon which
he wore the Ring of Retcon!  "And now, I will take the ring!"
  "You didn't think I was going to let you keep it, did you?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"  wReamicus Maximus forced Continuity Champ Junior's
hand open and slid the ring off of his finger.
  "Oh, grow up!"  wReamicus Maximus pushed Continuity Champ Junior
against the wall, causing him to bump his head.  Whether he was
unconscious or just dazed was not clear at this point.
  wReamicus Maximus placed the ring on his finger.  "Time Crapper!
Legionaires!  You've all been played as pawns!  Now I, wReamicus
Maximus, am the Lord of Time!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
  wReamicus Maximus raised his fist and all of reality trembled.

(Meanwhile, the story continues in LNH Comics Presents #21, Nicks of
Time #2-4, Pliable Lad #22 and Swordmaster and the Load Island
Renegades #13!  Whew!)

     Jeff J McCoskey       |M|   "Preservatives might be preservin' you all:
        DoD# 750A2         |c|   I think that's somethin' you mighta missed."
   jjmcc at ix.netcom.com     |Q|   -- Jefferson Airplane
           >>your Ad here!  low $$, commensurate visibility<<

Next Week:  RETCON HOUR Epsilon!!

Arthur "Same Classic Channel.  But Same Time?  Probably not." Spitzer

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