LNH/NTB: Classic LNH Adventures #189: Beige Midnight Part Twenty-Five

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer2 at gmail.com
Sun Feb 21 13:24:40 PST 2021

You can sift through the racc list archive
or you can try google groups racc for the twenty-fourth part of Beige Midnight.

Here's the second third of issue #8 -- PLANET
MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!! 'They Mite Be Rulers' by me (Arthur Spitzer)
Can anyone stop Cheesecake Eater Lad and his very tasty mind control
cheesecake?  Can you design jeans for genes?  And what have all those NTB's
been up to -- and can it appear uncensored in this story?  And will we
ever get to read any of Simon Velco's naughty, naughty Dr. Who fanfiction?
Or will we all be incredibly lucky and not have to do that?

And now probably none of those questions will be answered...

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

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

                                    ADVENTURES #189

                   Beige Midnight Part Twenty-Five

Part II

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The LNH MedLab --

Dr. Stomper looked through his microscope at the sample he had taken 
from Dr. Bad-Bedside-Manner.  Based on the info Cheesecake Eater Lad had 
given them, he had less than 22 hours to find a cure for this virus. 
Dr. Stomper let out a yawn.  God, he was tired.  When was the last time 
he had gotten any sleep?  No, don't think about sleep.  Got to find a 
cure.  He rummaged in a drawer and took out a bottle of pills.  He 
popped a few.  That would give him 8 more hours or so.  He looked 
through his microscope once again.

"Hey, Doc!"  Dr. Stomper turned around.  It was Occultism Kid and Kid 
Anarky.  A Kid Anarky that had a goatee.

"He's one of them, Occultism Kid!"

"Relax Doc!  It's a fake!" said Kid Anarky tearing away his fake goatee. 
  "I'm immune or something."

"Really?  How?" said Dr. Stomper with a skeptical look.  "Where have you 

"It's kind of complicated.  But okay -- once you guys went into space I 
got this weird feeling -- this urge to wear a trenchcoat.  But all I had 
was this pink fuzzy one.  Anyways, I discovered this portal -- near my 
room -- in the hallway.  I went through it and -- it led somewhere. 
Look, to keep this short -- the NTB is back.  And they're all gathered 
in one of the LNHHQ's sub-sub basements."

"Christ," said Occultism Kid in way that sounded like this was the last 
thing in the world he wanted to hear.  "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Well, I'm telling you now."

"Okay.  But what does this have to with the virus?" asked Dr. Stomper.

"I'm getting there.  For some reason I think that the NTB is immune to 
this virus."

"Why?  Is it a magic resistance or something like that?"

"No.  Well, I don't think so.  But here's the thing: there's some guy 
called Simon Velcro who was with them.  Some poseur who calls himself an 
NTB'r, but he doesn't have a trenchcoat.  Anyways, the virus affected 
him like it did everyone else."

"So, you're saying because he didn't wear a trenchcoat -- the virus 
changed him?" said Occultism Kid.

"Hmm.  That might actually make some sense," said Dr. Stomper breaking 
in.  "Based on the info we have it looks like Vector Sublime, the latest 
incarnation of the Melissa Virus, created this.  Powerful symbols can 
disrupt the viruses she creates.  And trenchcoats are a symbol of free 
will and individualism in the Looniverse."

"So we just need what -- 6 billion or so trenchcoats?  And to convince 
everyone to wear them?  Oh, that's going to be easy then!" said 
Occultism Kid with a touch of sarcasm.

"More like 6.707 billion trenchcoats," said Dr. Stomper crunching 
numbers in his calculator.  "But I do think that there is an easier way. 
  But first things first:  We need to procure a few trenchcoats for test 
purposes to checkout Kid Anarky's theory.  You know where we can get some?"

Kid Anarky snapped his fingers.  "Trenchcoat Hoarder Lad."

"Who?" said both Dr. Stomper and Occultism Kid in unison.

"The boyfriend of Hoards-Leather-Lingerie Lass?"

Both Dr. Stomper and Occultism Kid nodded to themselves.  "Oh, right.  Him."

"Well, we better get started," said Dr. Stomper.  "Less than 22 hours 
left to find a cure."

"Where did you get that number from, Doc?" asked Kid Anarky.  "Virus 
turns you in less than 12 hours.  Which gives you 10 at the most."

"Ah, right.  Cheesecake Eater Lad gave us the number.  I should have 
suspected it.   But good to know."  Dr. Stomper reset his watch with a 
new countdown.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

An LNH Monitoring Room --

Cheesecake Eater Lad sitting in a chair with a number of his enslaved 
team surrounding him stared at the various monitors.

He had been checking the progress of Dr. Stomper and his crew in finding 
a cure.  So far they had stolen some trenchcoats from Trenchcoat Hoarder 
Lad.  They had recruited Fuzzy.  And now they were all going into New 
Look Lass's room.  Curious.  "What's going on there?  What are they doing?"

"Hmm.  I guess Fuzzy is either fighting New Look Lass or helping her try 
on a trenchcoat.  It's a bit ambiguous," said Catalyst Lass.

"No.  They're fighting.  It's just Fuzzy using her power on the camera 
that makes it look slightly more innocent.  They're breaking the truce. 
  I believe Dr. Stomper has found the cure.  Fearless Leader?"

"Yes, sir!"

"I want you to kill Stomper and everyone with him.  After you've done 
that -- hide their bodies.  Got it?"

Fearless Leader gave a nod and loaded his gun.  "Affirmative."

"Catalyst Lass?  I want you to distract and pacify the Ultimate Ninja 
and the rest.  Keep them occupied.  They can't know about this."

"Anything for you, Master Sweetie."  She gave Cheesecake Eater Lad a 
rather long kiss before she left him.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

New Look Lass looked down at her *ahem* outfit.  "My god.  I must have 
been out of my mind," she said pulling the lapels of her trenchcoat 
closely together.  "There is no way even if I was evil that I'd wear 
something this tacky!  No way!!"

"Well," said Dr. Stomper.  "It does appear that the trenchcoat has 
blocked the virus and mind control cheesecake from your system.  That's 

"I need to change.  Get this abomination of taste off me.  And then burn 
this hideous thing."

"You can do that later.  We need your help first, New Look Lass.  And we 
don't have much time."

"What do you need?"

"We need you to design something for us.  We need a trenchcoat that a 
virus can wear.  Can you do that?"

"A virus?"

"Yes.  A virus."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The LNH MedLab --

Dr. Stomper poured a test tube into a beaker even as New Look Lass 
scribbled away on her iThingee.

And then Fearless Leader kicked the door open.  With both guns blazing. 
  He hit Occultism Kid point blank in the head.  The first shot he fired 
at Fuzzy missed.  He hit her though as she ducked down on the floor.  He 
shot her a third time for the kill.  He then shot both Kid Anarky and 
New Look Lass.

Dr. Stomper shouted, "No!  Please!  Don't!!"

"Just following orders, Doc," Fearless Leader said with a grin.  And 
then he blasted at Dr. Stomper.  The bullet flew through the beaker and 
hit Stomper in the chest.

Fearless Leader then proceeded to shoot each one in the head one more 
time.  And then he paused looking at the dead bodies.

That was -- that was too easy.  There was something wrong here.  He had 
sparred with Fuzzy in the Peril Room a few times.  She was a much better 
fighter than this.

He inspected Stomper's head.  Wires.  A roboduplicate.

He took out his comm.thingee.  "Leader here.  They're not here.  These 
are roboduplicates.  We've been took.  Out."

He was about to leave the room when he saw something.  Dancer, he 
thought as he looked at the suspended animation.thingee.  He slid his 
finger on the glass casing.

"You," he said staring at Tara Shreds face.  "You with your lovely 
little lies that swallow all men into them.  You.  You caused all this. 
  All of this!  Why did I save you?  I should have let you touch the 
Tower.  I could have been leader.  Then it would have been different. 
But no.  You had to get inside me.  Tear my heart from me.  Make me 
care.  Feel.  Think this worthless little planet was better than it 
really was."  Fearless Leader laughed.  "You made me blind to 
everything.  And you betrayed me.  And I can't stop thinking -- thinking 
about you.  You're always there in my head.  I need to end this.  I need 
to end you."  He pointed the muzzle on the glass directly above her. 
"You deserve this.  Yes."

And on the other side of the room -- hidden beyond Fearless Leader's 
mortal senses were the actual LNH'rs.  Dr. Stomper and New Look Lass 
were frantically doing things with test tubes and iThingees.  Occultism 
Kid was in a meditative state chanting words.  And Fuzzy was in ready to 
kick Fearless Leader's ass position.  "OK!  Drop the spell!  He's going 
to kill her."

"Don't," said Dr. Stomper.  "We still need time!"

"Stomper!" said Fuzzy glaring her head back at him.  "He's going to kill 
her!  I can take him.  I've got the element of surprise.  We can't just 
stand here!"

"Maybe.  Maybe you could take him.  And what then?  Are you also going 
to take down the next Death Squad that Cheesecake Eater Lad sends?  And 
the one after that?  No.  This is bigger than Ripping Dancer.  This is 
the world.  The Looniverse.  That's what's at stake here.  And I need to 
cure this virus.  Or it all ends.  Everything.  I'm sorry."  Dr. Stomper 
continued mixing test tubes.

"You're a real bastard sometimes, Stomper," Fuzzy said looking back at 
Fearless Leader.  "But you're right."  She closed her eyes and sighed. 
And opened them again.

"Hurry up anyways," said Occultism Kid.  "Can't keep this thing up forever."

Fearless Leader just held the gun on the glass for the longest while. 
And then he said, "No.  That would be too quick.  Too merciful.  You 
don't deserve that kindness.  You don't know my hate.  You don't 
understand my hate.  The hate you make me feel.  No.  You're going to 
get better.  I'll find a cure for you.  Yes.  A cure.  And then?  And 
then I'll lock you in a cage.  And show you my hate.  Every day I'll 
show it to you.  And make you feel it.  Feel it all.  Every damn day. 
Every damn day!!  Because that's what you deserve.  Yes.  So get better, 
Tara.  Get better.  I can wait.  God, I can wait."  And Fearless Leader 
pulled his gun off of the glass.  And then he gave the glass a kiss.

"Christ," said Fuzzy.  "That was pretty twisted."

"I'm almost finished.  I just need to -- ah, yes.  There," said Dr. 
Stomper pouring a test tube into New Look Lass's iThingee.

Fearless Leader turned his head around.  There was a noise.  It was 
coming from somewhere.  It was coming from one of the cabinets under the 
sink.  Fearless Leader walked over with his gun ready and carefully 
opened it.  Under the sink was a bound and gagged Dr. Bad-Bedside-Manner 
trying to say something.

Fearless Leader sneered.  "Pathetic.  I should just execute you here."

"It's finished.  I've got it!" said Dr. Stomper with a syringe in his hand.

"Now.  NOW!" said Fuzzy very impatient.

"Have something to say?" said Fearless Leader as he ripped away the duct 
tape off Dr. Bad-Bedside-Manner's mouth.  "Last words?"

"Behind," said Dr. Bad-Bedside-Manner, "BEHIND YOU!"

As Fearless Leader turned around, he saw Fuzzy's foot just right before 
it kicked his head.  And then he felt another kick to his leg causing 
him to lose balance.  Fearless Leader recovered enough to point his gun 
at Fuzzy.  But there was a problem.  He couldn't quite tell, which was 
his gun -- and which was his hand.  It was very ambiguous.  The last 
thing he saw was Fuzzy's fist flying right into his head.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

An LNH Monitor Room --

Cheesecake Eater Lad twiddled his thumbs as he looked at Dr. Stomper 
inject Fearless Leader with something on the monitor screen.  This was 
going badly.  He was going to have to think of something else.

He looked at WikiBoy.  "Ah, if I only had more than one of you.  If only 
I had..."  And then Cheesecake slapped his head.  "Sometimes I can be so 

And then he grinned.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The LNH Cafeteria --

The Ultimate Ninja and the rest of the currently unaffected LNH'rs 
watched with quiet fascination as Catalyst Lass juggled knives and axes, 
while riding a unicycle, and singing the theme song from the Love Boat.

And then without warning, hundreds of crazed WikiBoys burst into the 
cafeteria.  Each one with the power of all of the useful members of the 
LNH.  And better ninja skills than even the Ultimate Ninja.

"Guess the truce is over, huh?" said Captain Continuity looking at 
Ultimate Ninja.

The ninja didn't answer.  He simply started throwing ninja bushes 

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The LNH MedLab --

And Fearless Leader came to.

"You okay?" said Kid Anarky.

"I uh..."  Fearless Leader touched his face.  He was smooth shaven 
again.  "Tara.  Tara!  Is she -- is she..."  He got up and went over to 
where Ripping Dancer was.

"She's doing as well as can be expected.  We've got much bigger problems 
though," said Dr. Stomper as he fiddled with various knobs on some 
science.thingee of his.

"Yes.  Yes of course.  I -- uh, what's the situation?"

And as if to answer him, the door to the MedLab burst in with a swarm of 
WikiBoys behind it.

"That!" said Occultism Kid as various beams of power poured from his 
fingers and also Kid Anarky's hands at the hordes of WikiBoys.

Fearless Leader reloaded his gun.  Fuzzy focused her powers of ambiguity 
on the horde.

Dr. Stomper threw some of the virus cure dust he'd been making into the 
direction of the WikiBoys.  "Nope.  No effect.  I guess I shouldn't be 
surprised.  WikiBoy doesn't have freewill unless someone edits him to. 
If we want to stop them we'll have to get to Cheesecake Eater Lad."

Fearless Leader looked down at the dead roboduplicates.  "I think I've 
got an idea."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Cheesecake Eater Lad watched with glee as the hordes of WikiBoys started 
to crush the LNH'rs they were fighting.  It was only a matter of time. 
And once the WikiBoys retrieved those cosmic objects Occultism Kid had 
then nothing would stop him.  It wasn't quite the way he had written it 
in Cheesecake Midnight -- but it didn't matter.

And then he heard a thumping on the ceiling.  Someone was coming after 
him.  Perhaps his mentor?  Good Ol' Ultimate Ninja?  Yes, that would be 
good.  To watch as one of his WikiBoy bodyguards ripped the head off of 
the ninja.  To watch that last look on the Ultimate Ninja knowing who 
had beaten him.  That would be great!

"WikiBoys!  Kill whoever comes down from there!  Rip their head off!!"

He watched the vent screen fall down and Fuzzy with it.

"Oh," said a disappointed Cheesecake Eater Lad.  "It's just you."  A 
WikiBoy grabbed Fuzzy.  And the other ripped her head right off.

And a cloud of dust emerged from Fuzzy's severed neck.  Fuzzy's severed 
roboduplicate neck.

Cheesecake Eater Lad began to cough and hack.  And then an awareness 
came to him.  He touched his face.  His clean shaven face.

"Oh god," he said.  And then quickly, "WikiBoy I revert you back to way 
you were before the virus infected us."

He looked as WikiBoy returned to his normal self (with a beaver tail -- 
courtesy of Master Blaster).  "God god god.  My wife's going to kill me."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

LNH Command Room --

"Good work," said the Ultimate Ninja towards New Look Lass, Dr. Stomper, 
Fuzzy, and Fearless Leader.

"I just have to say that I never thought of clothing for 
microorganisms," said New Look Lass.  "It's opened up all sorts of 
possibilities!  I can just see it now!  Designer Jeans -- For Genes!!"

"Well, I've gotten the air system to circulate the cure dust all over 
the LNHHQ," said Dr. Stomper clicking a switch.  "It might take awhile 
though since the LNHHQ is awfully big."

The Ultimate Ninja nodded.  "What about the world?"

"I'm guessing we could probably do the same thing the LNV did and use 
our satellites to spread the cure.  It's going to take awhile though."

"Get it done."

"UN?" said Captain Continuity.  "It's madness out there.  There's so 
much chaos.  I don't know what we're going to do about it.  It's like an 
Elsewhirl out there.  I'm afraid the Writers have gone mad."

"We'll deal with it.  Ah, CEL," said the Ultimate Ninja as watched a 
cringing Cheesecake Eater Lad coming towards him.

"I am so so so so sorry.  I'm just..." said Cheesecake Eater Lad 
groveling near the Ultimate Ninja's feet.

"Rise.  Cheesecake Midnight, huh?"

"I'm deleting every single copy.  I promise."

"Before you do that -- send me one.  Might be amusing."

"Of course.  Of course!"

"UN?" said Occultism Kid with a burlap sack in his arms.  "Me and Kid 
Anarky -- we're going to where the spell will be performed.  It might 
take awhile."

The Ultimate Ninja nodded.  "Do you have everything?  Where it's going 
to take place?"

"Yes," said Occultism Kid raising up the burlap sack that now contained 
the Insanity Gauntlet, Ring of Retconn, Fragments of the Cosmic Plot 
Device, and Book of Deus ex Machinas.  "But any more details than that. 
  No.  It's best that you don't know.  We'll try our best though."

"Well, good luck then."

Occultism Kid gave a nod.  And then Kid Anarky created a portal out of 
thin air.  And the two of them went through it.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

United Nations Building, Net.York City --

"You know why you're here," said Mynabird standing in the center of the 
General Assembly Hall surrounded by various member of his Legion of 
Net.Freedom Lovers.  "You know why you're all here!  It's hate!  A 
hatred for them!  For those who have beaten you time after time!  A 
hatred!  A hatred for the LNH!!!!!!!"

"Actually," said one of the villains, "I don't really hate the LNH. 
Hate's a strong word.  Kind of indifferent to them actually.  I don't 
really think about them to be honest.  They're just some team of -- 
what, superheroes, I guess?  In fact, I'm not really sure what the LNH 
means," said Dr. Incredibly-Indifferent-to-the-LNH.  "Lettuce Nacho 
Heroes, or something like that?  I don't really care.  I have much 
better things to be concerned about."

"Oh, um oh," said Mynabird looking at his index cards, "Well then I 
guess... umm..."  Mynabird started awkwardly to shuffle through the 
cards.  And then he just stopped, put the cards down, and took his hand 
and blasted Dr. Incredibly-Indifferent-to-the-LNH into a pile of ashes. 
  "As I was saying, we all hate the LNH!!!!"

All the villains in the room clapped and nodded nervously to this, while 
saying, "Oh yeah!  Yeah!  Right!  Hate!  Hate the LNH!  Yes, we sure do! 
  Most definitely!" and other stuff like that.

Mynabird nodded.  "But we aren't the only ones who hate the LNH!  No. 
This speech is being live fed to thousands of alternate Looniverses.  To 
thousands of intergalactic civilizations.  To every place where sentient 
beings -- hate the LNH!!!!  And tomorrow -- it all changes!  Everything 
changes!!  Because," Mynabird paused and Easily-Discovered Bran Mite 
took a sip of water inside his command room that was Mynabird's helmet. 
  "Because tomorrow -- they're all joining us.  They're coming here to 
join the fight.  The fight that will crush the LNH once and for all. 
Yes.  Tomorrow!  Tomorrow!!!  TOMORROW!!!!!!!"  Mynabird shook his fist 
in the air.  And villains in the room clapped and cheered.

"My sources in the LNHHQ say that the LNH'r called Occultism Kid has in 
possession with him four of the most powerful devices in the entire 
Looniverse.  The Insanity Gauntlet, the Ring of Retconn, The Cosmic Plot 
Device, and something called the Book of Deus ex Machinas.  Tomorrow: 
Me, You, and all of our allies -- Everyone, we will storm the LNHHQ, and 
some lucky villain -- it could be you -- will take control of these 
objects and rewrite reality to their whim.  I have no desire for any of 
that.  I just have one goal -- and I'm sure you know what that goal is. 
  But I will lead you there.  We shall crush the LNH together.  We shall 
burn their headquarters down and salt the ashes.  Tomorrow -- we will do 
that.  Tomorrow!!!!!!"  More clapping.  More cheers.

And then Mr. Homage stood up.  "That?  That's what we've been waiting 
for?  That's your great plan?  Build a giant army of supervillains -- 
and storm the LNHHQ?  Ooh!  Wow!  No ones ever thought to do that 
before, huh?  That's your plan?  Seriously?  That's your plan?"

"And do you have a better plan, Homage?" said Mynabird.

Mr. Homage paused a bit as if thinking how to respond to this and then 
he said, "Sadly, I don't."  And then he sat down.

"Well then.  Tomorrow!  Tomorrow!!!!  TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!" said Mynabird 
raising both hands in the air as the entire assembly cheered and clapped.

"...You're always a day -- away..." sung Londonbroil.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

LNHHQ Sub-sub Basement #58.5 --

As both Kid Anarky and Occultism Kid went down the stairs, Occultism Kid 
took a whiff of the air around him.  Cigarette smoke as well as other 
illegal narcotics made up the air.  This place definitely looked like a 
bar.  And it was filled with trenchcoaters boozing it up.  Some where in 
the background the Stevie Wonder song, 'Superstition,' was being played. 
  That was all an illusion though.  Based on what Kid Anarky had told 
him this place was actually a Peril Room.  Supposedly, the trenchcoater 
Net.Thing had worked it so it was hooked up to the LNHHQ's Peril Room 
Monitoring Room.  So anyone who died here would be teleported there. 
Supposedly.  Not that he had any plans on dying to see if that really 

Trenchcoaters.  Trenchcoaters.  Ah, yes.  Only Dave would think filling 
up a room with these scoundrels and other assorted degenerates would be 
a good idea.  This was going to be very bad.  He could just feel it.

And then he could see every single one of them in the room staring at 
him.  Gazing right through him.  Finally, all of them shouted, 
"Anarky!!!!!" and raised their beer mugs up.

"Hey, guys," said Kid Anarky slightly embarrassed.  "I'm sure you all 
know Occultism Kid."

The trenchcoaters made various foul grumblings, mutterings, and obscene 
gestures to this and went back to ignoring the two LNH'rs.

Except for a female trenchcoater that Occultism Kid recognized, she went 
over to greet them.

"LJC?" said Occultism Kid with a bit of surprise.

"Nay, I am not she.  Though we have our similarities -- there is a 
connection, which is all I can say about that.  No, I am Lady 58.5 -- a 
Guardian of this place.  We shall speak more when the Stranger finally 

"Dave's not here yet, huh?  Guess I'll just mingle then."

Lady 58.5 gave a nod and went off to talk to some other trenchcoaters. 
Occultism Kid turned his head towards Kid Anarky.  "Anarky?  Could you 
protect these for a bit?" he said handing him the burlap sack full of 
Cosmic items.  "And don't trust any of these -- people."

Kid Anarky gave a nod.  "Believe, you don't have to tell me that.  Got a 

Occultism Kid shook his head.  "Just need to size up everything.  Maybe 
find out what exactly Dave promised everyone.  See you in a few."

Occultism Kid scanned the room.  The first thing he noticed was some 
non-trenchcoater type bound to a chair and gagged.  He walked over to 
see why this was.

"You don't want to do that," said the Trenchcoater who appeared to be 
guarding the bound man.

Occultism Kid ignored the trenchcoater and tore the duct tape off the 
bound man's mouth.

"Ah, thank you, Occulty Kiddo!  I suppose you'd probably like to hear my 
plans, huh?  Simon Velcro's naughty, naughty plans for when I escape 
from here, eh?  Heh -- heh.  The first naughty thing I shall do will be 
to go back to my Net.ropolis apartment.  Turn on my computer.  And then 
begin typing.  Yes typing.  But what will I type?  What shall I type? 
Dr. Who fanfiction.  Yes.  But not ordinary run of the mill Dr. Who 
fanfiction.  No.  This shall be a special type.  A very special type. 
What type do you dare ask?  I will tell you.  Yes, I will tell all of 
you!!  Erotic Dr. Who fanfiction!!! Yes!! That's right!  Erotic Dr. Who 
Fanfiction!  And my first story will involve me, Dr. Who, a goat, and my 
mum -- all taking a gigantic bubble bath together.  Without clothes!!! 
No clothes at all!!!!  Muhahahahahahahha!!!!!!!!  Would you like to hear 
my ideas for my second naughty story?"

Occultism Kid answered that by putting the duct tape over Simon Velcro's 
mouth again.

"See?  I told you didn't want to do that.  No one ever listens to me."

Ignoring the trenchcoater, Occultism Kid scanned the room again.  A lot 
of these trenchcoaters he had never seen before.  Still there were a few 
recognizable faces.  He could see Bacchus passed out on the floor. 
There was the Jellomancer.  Deadheadman.  Some guy in a trenchcoat who 
fought ninjas who he had heard about.  And scanning towards the 
non-smoking part of the bar, he saw three really familiar faces.  Three 
of the worst of the worst of these evil Bastards.  He had to wonder what 
Dave offered to these three -- since neither one had a single noble bone 
in their bodies.  Withnail, Grim Sloth, and Dr. Deadbeat.  That Deadbeat 
bastard still owed him $500.  Well, looks like it was time to collect.

Still, Occultism Kid thought to himself.  There was something wrong with 
this.  It wasn't that the three of them were sitting in the non-smoking 
section.  That wasn't strange -- that was pretty typical.  No, it was 
that they weren't smoking in the non-smoking section.  That was very 
strange.  Of course maybe they had all given up smoking.  That was 
possible.  They didn't seem to be doing anything else, but staring at 
the various trenchcoaters.  Well, better go and check -- see what's up. 
  Maybe he'd get that money he was owed too.  You never know.

"Hey, guys," said Occultism Kid with a rather sarcastic tone in his 
voice, "Been awhile, hasn't it?"

"I'm sorry," said Dr. Deadbeat, "Do I know you?"

"Quit the act, Deadbeat.  You know damn well who I am.  Occultism Kid? 
The guy you owe $500 too?  That ring a bell?"

"So you're... Occultism Kid?"

"I think we covered that.  So where is it?  Where's my money?"

"I have no money.  But if you are Occultism Kid -- then you must..." 
Dr. Deadbeat took out a dagger from his trenchcoat and skewered 
Occultism Kid in the gut with it.  "...DIE!!!!!!!"

Okay, thought Occultism Kid as he fell to the ground.  I probably should 
have expected that.  He watched as the three trenchcoaters stood up and 
opened their trenchcoats.  Each one was wearing some type of bomb.  The 
glamour dissolved revealing the three to be acolytes of the Bryttle 

"Net.Trenchcoate Brigaders!!  Our Masters, The Lords of Bryttle, send 
you this greeting!!!!"

Occultism Kid noticed that his hand was getting very red with blood. 
Try not to pass out.  Try not to pass out.

<<...Very superstitious, nothin' more to say,
      Very superstitious, the devil's on his way...>>

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The Streets of Net.ropolis --

Dr. Stomper had succeeded in sending a satellite up into space.  A 
satellite with the cure.  So by this point in time, the entire city of 
Net.ropolis had been bathed with the cure.  The innocent bystanders were 
back to their normal selves.

But the streets were very quiet.  Most people had decided to stay home 
today.  Call in sick for work.  There was a feeling that this one day 
you didn't want to be out and about.  Something bad was coming.

Only the worst of the street gangs and street thugs were out on the 
streets.  They were the only ones to witness the flashes.  The flashes 
that began to consume every street corner.  They saw beings step out 
from the flashes of light.  Beings in supervillain costumes.  Beings 
from alternate dimensions.  In the sky, large Star Cruisers began to 
appear.  Demons and Monsters started to emerge from the ground. 
Everyone or thing that had a grudge or ax to grind with the LNH was 
coming today.  They were coming for their pound of flesh.  They were all 

A whole lot of bad was coming.

And all of them began to march towards the LNHHQ.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

LNHHQ Sub-sub Basement #58.5 --

"Net.Trenchcoate Brigaders!!  Our Masters, The Lords of Bryttle, send 
you this greeting!!!!"

This caused all of the trenchcoaters in the room to stop their carousing 
and other sordid behavior and look at the three bomb wearing Bryttle 
acolytes.  There was a slight amused expression on their faces, like 
that of a cat who's being threatened by a near-sighted mouse with a limp 
using a piece of lint as its weapon.  And then they all took one more 
drink, lit a cigarette, stood up, and took out their weapons.

There were guns, shotguns, machine guns, bazookas, rocket launchers, 
flame throwers, gasoline containers, knives, poisoned daggers, switch 
blades, chain saws, broken bottles, syringes, rope, jello molds, jars 
filled with nasty scorpians, spiders, and other horrible things, jars 
filled with aborted fetuses, Sarah Palin sex dolls, cigar cutters, 
cheese graters, red hot pokers, spiked dildos, and things I'd rather not 

A couple of minutes later...

Occultism Kid winced a bit as he looked at the corpses of the three 
acolytes.  They probably had it coming, but still -- on the other hand 
if this actually was a Peril Room then that would mean that they had 
teleported safely into the Peril Room Monitoring Room.  Hopefully, the 
LNH'rs could take care of them.  Meanwhile, Lady 58.5 was doing 
something to stop his bleeding.  "Are you a healer?"

She shook her head.  "Nay, I am simply pausing the wounds.  Once you 
leave this place -- the wounds will resume."

Occultism Kid stood up and winced in pain.  He had the power if he 
wanted to heal himself completely, but he couldn't waste such energy at 
the moment.  He needed all of his energy for the big spell.

He looked at the three dead cultists.  The bombs they were wearing were 
still there.  Still counting down.  He took out his comm.thingee. 
"wReamhack?  Yeah, this is OK.  Did three Bryttle cultists just tp into 
the Peril Room Monitoring Room.  Yeah?  Were they wearing bombs?  No, 
huh.  Well that's good I suppose.  Out."  He turned his head to Kid 
Anarky.  "Well, at least we know this works as a Peril Room.  So even if 
the bombs do go off we should be fine."

"Not all of us," said Lady 58.5.  "I am connected to this place.  I 
cannot leave it.  If I should disappear from it, then it disappears. 
And if it disappears, then I disappear.  Because of the nature of this 
place, it is the only suitable place to perform the Spell of all Spells. 
  To perform it anywhere else, then you risk swallowing all of reality 
into the Book of Deus ex Machinas."

"Okay," said Occultism Kid.  "That's good to know.  Well, now all we 
need is for someone to stop these things from blowing us all up.  Anyone?"

"Can't you just magic them away, OK?" asked Kid Anarky.

"I could.  But if I want to do the spell we're supposed to perform here 
-- I'll need all of my current mana and then some."

"Likely story," said various trenchcoaters.

"I'll give it a go," said a bald man wearing a black leather trenchcoat 
that had a number of piercings all over his face and everywhere else on 
his body.  "The name's the Ring Job.  And I've watched all of the James 
Bond movies.  And also every single British Spy TV series.  So, I think 
I've got a handle on all this."  He took off one of his eyebrow rings 
(which also could be a wire cutter) and began looking at the bombs. 
"Let's see here.  Red is Dead.  Black is Whack.  Green is Mean.  There 
for Yellow -- is Mellow."  He clipped one of the yellow wires.  "Or 
maybe in this case -- Yellow is cause the timer to go even faster than 
it was going.  We're all going to die!!!!!  We're all going to die!!!!!"

"Oh, for God's sake," said a trenchcoater taking off his mask to reveal 
himself as being one of the 
Front.  He then proceeded to click the off switch on all of the bombs 
ending the countdown.  "You people -- you just don't want this damn 
miniseries to ever end?  Do you?"

"We're getting there," said Kid Anarky.  "Only four issues left."

The member of the 
Front just had a disgusted look on his face.

Occultism Kid winced again as he checked on his stab wound.

"Once I would have sent you a get well card, but now I must remain..."

Occultism Kid turned his head to the familiar voice.  "Dave!  Finally. 
About time you showed up.  Well, I guess we can get this show on the 
road finally."

The Dvandom Stranger shook his head.  "No, I am afraid that we are still 
a number of trenchcoaters short of the requisite number needed.  And I 
fear it is my fault.  I have chosen badly in those who should have 
recruited the proper number.  And now it appears too late to draft more 
to our cause.  The cosmic powers have been slow in dealing with the 
threat of the Brothers and now it might very well be too late."

"Well, couldn't we just get some LNH'rs and put some trenchcoats on them 
-- to get to the right number?" said Kid Anarky.

The Dvandom Stanger shook his head.  "It goes beyond simply wearing a 
trenchcoat.  No.  It is about destiny.  It is a curse within the soul 
that can never be cleaned."

"How about him," said Occultism Kid pointing towards the still bound and 
gagged Simon Velcro.  "He claims to be a trenchcoater."

The Dvandom Stranger looked at Simon Velcro.  "Yes, he could very well 
be one.  If there were a trenchcoat for him."

Occultism Kid took off a trenchcoat that one of the cultists had been 
wearing.  And then he looked at the trenchcoater guarding Simon Velcro. 
  "Free him.  And have him put this on."

The trenchcoater sliced away at the tape that was binding Simon Velcro. 
  "Put it on."

"This?" said Simon Velcro aghast.  "Ick!  Its got blood and little brain 
bits on it.  I don't think I'll..."

"Put it on.  Or we will all do to you what we did to the previous owners 
body.  Get it?"

"Ah, well.  In that case," said Simon Velcro putting the trenchcoat on. 
  "Ooh, I feel tingly.  And my facial hair is all gone!" he said rubbing 
his chin.  "Oh, and about all of those naughty naughty Dr. Who tales I 
promised to write.  I'm afraid I was evil then so I won't be doing that. 
  But on the other hand that story involving me, Dr. Who, my mum, and a 
goat all taking a marvelous bubble bath together -- I will still write 
that one -- with one change.  We will all be wearing clothes.  Because 
it's simply a smashing good yarn.  It just is.  Ah, Davey!  It's me! 
Your bestest chum!!"

"Well?" said Occultism Kid.

"Put the gag back on him," said the Dvandom Stranger.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

End of Part II

Next Week:  Beige Midnight Part XXVI!

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

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