LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #223: LNH vII #50 Part Three
Arthur Spitzer
arspitzer2 at gmail.com
Sun Nov 21 13:16:52 PST 2021
You can sift through the racc list archive
https://lists.eyrie.org/pipermail/racc/
or you can try google groups racc for the whole issue of LNH vII #50.
And this is part three of the Big Mega Multi-Writer Issue of LNH vII #50.
There were Eight LNH Writers involved in the writing of this and they
are as follow: Jeanne Morningstar, Rob Rogers, Scott Eiler,
Dave Van Domelen, Arthur Spitzer (me), Drew Nilium, Martin Phipps, and
Saxon Brenton.
And some more Dorf/LNH action! Will the Dorfs come in a
superawesomegrimdarkmegadreadnought? Will Irony Man start a musical
number? Will Fearless Leader have to do some paperwork? Will we
have some scroll carrying owlbears? Will Horrible Name Lad come up
with some horrible names?
Find out in...
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| |__ | [] | | [] | | | | [] | | _ \
|____| \__] \__ | |_| \__/ |_|\_\
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|_| OF NET.HEROES
ADVENTURES #223
=====================
LNH vII #50 Part Three
=====================
From: Andrew Perron pwerdna at gmail.com
Date: Sun Nov 2 16:20:29 PST 2014
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
The Dorf superawesomegrimdarkmegadreadnought burned through space,
cherry-red glow from its engines throwing off nasty, angry radiation. In
its fetid bowels -- which, really, was the whole place -- the black
thing known as the Heart of the Prophet sat, pulsating hatefully. A Dorf
scientist laid vials of yellowish liquid in a semicircle before it, and
watched as they began to froth.
"The technopriests didn't fuck up," he breathed reverently. "The
Heart is mutating the virus into a form that expresses the essence of
the Prophet!"
"Yes," said General Jarrek, "and when we infect the LNH, it will be
the power of their own rage that resurrects him!"
"What an idiotic plan!" shouted a Dorf trooper, stamping over and
getting in General Jarrek's face. "The LNH has scientists, doctors,
mystics! They'll whip up a cure and we'll be screwed!"
Jarrek leaned in, pressing his nose into the trooper's and shouting
into his ear. "Gee, asshole, y'think? That's why it keeps mutating into
new strains, laying dormant, spreading and reinfecting!"
"Hah!" laughed Marshall LaRocque, crumpling a beer can on his head.
"They'll think they got it licked, and BAMMO!"
"Yeah... and those fuckers will finally pay..." Jarrek turned away
from the dazed trooper to stare into the churning liquid, his gaze a
thousand lightyears away...
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
Outside, Seyfert whizzed toward the ship, the gems on his Quintom
bands glowing. He'd waited until they were clear of Topphorti system
space to close in. He'd get in, grab the Heart, and bring it to the LNH.
Kid Kirby would know some way to deal with a--
PAIN! Psychic energy lashed through his body, of no substance but
nonetheless effective. He staggered and turned to face his assailant.
It was a flat, shifting shape of skin. The surface seemed to be
painted almost as a parody of the concept of "hot girl"; blond hair,
tanned skin, skimpy clothes, all rendered in undulating 2D.
"Now, you weren't thinking of leaving Slickshiver behind, were you?"
She growled in a disturbing facsimile of flirting and raised her hands,
flat fingers tapering off into long, sharp blades. "Lemme see that body
*shake*!"
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
The elevator doors whisked open with a pleasant hum as Irony Man,
Cynical Lass, Poignant Death Lass and Painful Pun Person stepped inside.
An upbeat, instrumental version of Gotye's "Somebody That I Used To
Know" played over the elevator speakers. Poignant Death Lass reached
forward and pressed the (-50) button on the elevator keypad.
"So," said Poignant Death Lass, turning to Irony Man as the doors
sealed themselves shut and the elevator began its descent. "What do you
remember about the early days of the LNH? Do you remember anything?"
Irony Man placed a hand on either side of his helmet. With a hiss,
the helmet disengaged, and Irony Man removed it from his head, staring
at his own reflection in the shining golden faceplate.
"Now and then I think of those days with the Legion
Like when Doctor Killfile told the whole world that
we'd die," he sang.
"I told myself we were an elite group
Though we often acted like 'F Troop'
And things got stranger every time we'd add a member."
"What's he doing?" Poignant Death Lass whispered.
"It's a musical interlude," Cynical Lass said. "You get used to them
after a while."
"You can get addicted to a certain kind of power
Or resentful of the fact that you'll always be number
two -- of this crew," Irony Man continued.
"When the universal crisis came
And the people shouted out my name
I would have been a fool if I didn't think it over."
Irony Man looked up from his helmet.
"But you didn't have to cut me off
Treat me like I'm an old man and my time is over
And I never needed to lead
But you hired my replacement and left me out of this
cross-over
You didn't have to stoop so low
Make it like I never served and my achievements zero
And I don't want to be a villain
But now I'm just somebody who's an ex-hero
Now I'm just somebody who's an ex-hero."
Cynical Lass turned, walked in front of Irony Man (no easy feat,
given the closeness of the elevator) and stepped up onto the armored
hero's toes, so that the two stood face-to-face.
"Now and then I think of when you joined Hex Luthor
Treating the LNH as just another bunch of toys you
owned," she sang.
"When our man of steel had turned to rust
You became someone we couldn't trust
And now you hang around like we're the ones made you
an ex-hero..."
"But you didn't have to cut me off," Irony Man sang.
"Get PR Kid to have Hasbro resculpt my action figure
And I don't really need the dough
But I'll bet Richard Nixon never felt this low."
"Oh, oh," sang Poignant Death Lass and Painful Pun Person, much to
their surprise.
"And now I'm blaming Mark Millar
For disregarding characterization in his Civil War
'Cause I've become my greatest foe
Now I'm just somebody who's an ex-hero," Irony Man sang.
"An ex-hero," Cynical Lass echoed.
"Now I'm just somebody who's an ex-hero..."
Irony Man sighed, and replaced the helmet on his head.
"Wow," Poignant Death Lass said, turning to Cynical Lass. "You have
a really nice voice. Like that British singer. You know... the one who's
not dead...?"
"Adele?" Painful Pun Person suggested.
"Right," Poignant Death Lass said.
"We will never... speak... of this... again," Cynical Lass said.
"The elevator's stopping," Poignant Death Lass said. "But we're only
at the 49th floor. I didn't realize anybody else was down here."
"Several life forms are approaching the doors," said Irony Man,
whose voice had regained its metallic timbre.
"Life forms?" Poignant Death Lass asked. "Don't you mean..."
The doors opened, and an enormous, scythe-like beak snapped shut
less than half an inch from Poignant Death Lass' face.
"WHAT THE HELL(tm) IS THAT?" she gasped.
"That... is a moa," said Irony Man, raising his gauntlets.
"WHAT'S A MOA?" asked Poignant Death Lass, scrambling to get out of
the way as the creature -- an enormous, wingless, two-legged bird with
sickle-shaped claws at the end of its talons -- leaped forward again.
"It's an island chain in the South Pacific," Painful Pun Person
said. "Or a variety of Girl Scout cookie."
"A moa is a large, flightless bird from New Zealand," Irony Man
said, as two more of the creatures appeared in the sub-basement. "Like a
kiwi. Except they're extremely dangerous. And supposedly extinct."
"Is this what happens to the LNH's kiwis when they get Dorfed out?"
Poignant Death Lass asked.
"It's possible," Cynical Lass said. "Of course, I wouldn't be
surprised if some super-secret, quasi-governmental organization had been
storing a flock of cloned moas right under our noses. Either way, it
looks like we have a fight on our hands..."
"...moa or lass," Painful Pun Person finished, as the flock of giant
birds rushed the elevator.
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
Namer Boy stuck his head into the Administrative Office, which in
itself might be considered one of the braver things most LNHers could
do. After all, it was the home of paperwork and "If you're not doing
anything right now" assignments. Some harbored a suspicion that it was
actually a "spore" for the Multiversal Office, a spore that hungered for
people to enter it and perform bureaucratic tasks that it might grow.
But it was simply a place where the necessary but boring work got done.
And it was one of the most likely places to find the net.hero called
Fearless Leader. [Who wasn't actually leader at the moment, and rarely
was, but the reasons don't really bear going into right now. -- Footnote
Girl]
Shaking his head to clear it of the cloud of exposition that had
momentarily engulfed it like a swarm of blackflies, Namer Boy said,
"Hey, Fearless Leader. Thought I might find you here. I heard you
weren't going on the big mission with Irony Man and the rest of us. Why
not?"
Fearless Leader looked up from one of the computer tablets spread
out on the desk in front of him. There was no good reason all the
paperwork couldn't be done on a single machine, of course, which was why
the five government organizations he liaised with each insisted he use
one that they had supplied and cleared. Never mind that Renegade
Programmer had found dozens of security holes in each of them within a
few seconds, so it wasn't like they were more trustworthy than just
using the LNHQ's systems. But, well, bureaucracy.
"Well, someone has to take care of all this paperwork, for one," he
shrugged. "Irony Man may be acting leader at the moment, but he's never
really had much patience for filling out forms. A real doozy just landed
on us too... something retconned out a few dozen net.heroes and
net.villains, and there's all sorts of forms that have to be filled out
before all my memories realign to the new continuity."
"Um, wouldn't the forms themselves be retconned when everything
settles out?" Namer Boy asked.
"Well, yes. But the memory of my having filled them out will remain,
and that's really all that matters to the oversight committee," Fearless
Leader smirked. "And it's not like any of them ever read the things...
it gives your average politician screaming heebeejeebees just thinking
about retcons. Doesn't really sit that well with me, but, well, someone
has to do it. Sometimes I think I must have some sort of super-power,
just to keep relatively sane hanging out with all you lunatics."
"Well, we're all mad here, as the Fileshare Cat said," Namer Boy
replied. "You can't help but go among mad people."
"True, that," Fearless Leader nodded. "But paperwork jokes aside,
this is really a mission about the founding members. And no matter how
many retcons I've been through since arriving here [Fearless Leader's
home reality was destroyed by Spham, and he was the lone survivor --
Footnote Girl], none of them have resulted in me having been a founder."
A momentary shadow flickered across Fearless Leader's face. He'd
lost everyone he'd ever known when Spham took his world [See? --
Footnote Girl], including the woman he loved. And while he'd made new
friends, even thought maybe he'd found love again, he still tended to
keep people at arm's length. He didn't want to get close and then lose
everyone again... irrational, but a perfectly normal reaction to what
he'd been through. He didn't exactly appreciate some of the locker room
innuendo about him and Ripping Dancer, although given the shifting
nature of the timelines around the LNH, it was entirely possible that
the innuendo was merely open secrets in a passing retcon. Yet another
reason to keep from getting too close... the "Writers" tended to run
roughshod over the relationships of "minor characters" like himself; for
all he knew, there was a point where he'd married Dancer, and another
where she'd died in his arms without ever having kissed. As long as he
didn't *try* to get too close, he wouldn't be hurt when some cosmic
force decided that Ripping Dancer really had always been in love with
someone else.
"Anyway," he cleared his throat, "as long as you're not doing...."
And Namer Boy demonstrated his heretofore unknown powers of Being
Anywhere But Here At Hyperspeed.
"Heh."
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
The giant birds rushed across the cramped sub-basement, leaping over
abandoned boxes of X-Force #1. Irony Man raised his palm, repulsive rays
charging up-- but hesitated.
"Well?" said Cynical Lass. "What are you waiting for, a Google Plus
invite?"
He held out his glowing palm. "What if these really are Moa, and
they're the last of their species? I-- I don't think I'd commit
genocide..."
Poignant Death Lass slammed repeatedly on the 'close door' button.
"I think it's just a placebo!"
"Better hurry up and decide!" said Painful Pun Person. "I don't
think I can take any moa!"
The fluorescent lights glinted off the terrible beaks and claws. The
doors began to close, but slowly-- a moa leapt into the air, flying
right towards them--
Irony Man let loose a blast. The bird was a broken silhouette half-
glimpsed as the bell dinged and the door closed.
He lowered his hand. "There," he said to Cynical Lass. "Happy?"
"You know that's not how breeding populations work, right?"
"Okay, we're here!" Poignant Death Lass said, trying to distract
from the awkwardness. The elevator doors opened to reveal a mainframe
computer that filled the whole room.
"So *this* is the base you meant," said Painful Pun Person, looking
around.
"Who would have thought there was so much in Irony Man's head?" said
Cynical Lass.
Irony Man rolled his eyes. "Come on!" he said.
They made their way over to a complex console. "I can connect here
and download through my armor directly to my brain," said Irony Man.
"Sounds like fun," Cynical Lass said.
The tip of Irony Man's finger opened up into a USB jack, and he
plugged in. "Hmmm... yes... That's it! I remember!"
"What!?"
"Where I left my cell phone! I had it on vibrate and left it in my
laundry hamper, so of *course* I couldn't hear it!"
Cynical Lass rolled *her* eyes. "Focus, Toony!"
"Hmm..." Little bleeping noises came from the console. "I need to
give that lady a call. My god, why did I delete that memory? Oh, right,
because she was a North Ko.rec.an spy. Never mind."
"Shouldn't there be, like, a search feature you can use?" said
Poignant Death Lass.
Irony Man concentrated for a moment. "Aha!"
"You found it!" said Painful Pun Person.
"Yes." He jacked out, fingerport closing up. "It's a long story, and
we have little time to waste. We need to get back upstairs and tell
everyone."
"...or we could talk about it now," said Cynical Lass. "Before you
tell everyone to stop what they're doing so you can exposit to them."
"...yes," admitted Irony Man. "I suppose we should. Well then..."
"It all started when General Jarrek appeared in LNHQ -- well, it was
the Net.ropolis Hotel Grand at the time. You see, we knew that the place
was a nexus of realities, and we were performing experiments to see if
we could create portals, hoping to make contact with some friendly
aliens."
"Uh huh," Cynical Lass said. "And how did that go?"
"Badly. General Jarrek appeared and immediately killed Cannon
Fodder! He then mind controlled the August One -- that is, the original
Occultism Kid -- and Shoots-Arrows-Out-of-His-Butt Lad."
"Seriously?"
"Hey, you know how the early LNH was. While we were dealing with
SAOoHB Lad, General Jarrek brought the mind-controlled August One to the
roof of LNHQ and had him open a portal through which the Dorf army
invaded Earth! Luckily, we were able to defeat the Dorf army, free them
from the mind control, and have the August One close the portal. General
Jarrek was returned to the Dorf Homeworld so he could be tried as a
terrorist." Irony Man reflected. "That was probably a bad call. The
Dorfs were probably laughing at us."
"You think?" Cynical Lass said.
"So the last time an LNH origin was written, it was based on
Avengers #1," Painful Pun Person said, "and now the revamped origin of
the LNH is a ripoff of the Avengers movie? That's an homage too far, if
you ask me."
"I don't know what you mean," Irony Man said, coughing into his
gauntlet. "If there are similarities between the origin of the LNH and
the Avengers movie, I'll be sure to have my legal team look into it."
"Huh," said Poignant Death Lass skeptically. "And what about what
List Lad said about a girl he loved?"
"Hmm," Irony Man said, stroking his metal chin. "He must have been
talking about Bandwagon Chick."
"You and Bandwagon Chick?" Cynical Lass asked.
"And you didn't know List Lad was in love with her?" asked Poignant
Death Lass, raising an eyebrow.
Irony Man shrugged, throwing his hands up in the air. "I don't see
what the problem was! It was just a fling! I mean, I was Toony Stork,
billionaire, net.hero, philanthropist, and there were dozens of girls
interested in me! So, of course, Bandwagon Chick was interested in me
too. Things didn't work out between us and we never spoke about it
again. So I don't see the problem."
Cynical Lass shot him a withering look. "So that's all it was. You
had a fling with her. That's your big secret. Come on! So Toony Stork,
legendary billionaire and playboy, had a fling with a teammate. I could
have figured that out without even asking. Is that supposed to be the
Big Secret this whole story's revolving around?"
"Well, it didn't end well. It really, really didn't. Trust me on
this."
She stepped a little closer and fixed him with her intense gaze.
"And yet it never came up the entire time you were working with her. It
never gave you any tension. And I don't see why this means you'd hate
the Dorf so much. They were just another alien invasion. What makes this
one so special?" She took a deep drag from her cigarette and blew the
smoke in Irony Man's face. He coughed and took a step back, trying to
look away from her. "Did you know we have an Orc now? A bloody Orc. And
we don't have any trouble with him. But when that half-Dorf, Vel,
joined, even Dr. Stomper wouldn't stand up for him." [Cf. Vel #-5 to -1
-- Footnote Girl]
"I... well... It caused this enormous dramasplosion that kept coming
up again and again and derailing all our meetings. It got to the point
where the had the August One wipe our minds, but my armor was configured
to store all my memories. And the Dorfs... uh... They interrupted our
date. It was just a disaster. She kept going on about the New Kids on
the Block, and I was getting bored with the whole thing and it felt like
it couldn't get any worse, and then the aliens showed up. So that's
why."
Poignant Death Lass coughed and shuffled. "He's lying. Or at least
not telling the whole truth."
"What? I... I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no idea
what you're talking about." He said again, emphasizing every word: "I
have no idea what you're talking about."
"And what you say three times is true?" said Cynical Lass.
"I have the power to sense poignant deaths," said (obviously)
Poignant Death Lass. (Unfortunately, Sister-State-The-Obvious was
nowhere in sight.) "And I feel a great loss in this place, so great that
it still feels as painful now as the moment it happened. A voice crying
out through the ages, forever unheard." She sniffled. "It's beautiful."
"No. You -- this can't be right. You have to be lying. Or a -- a
Dorf!" His voice was starting to become lower and more ragged. He
snarled. "I-- I-- I won't let you get away with this. I--" He stopped.
"Oh crap. I almost turned Dorf. Okay. Gotta think. Gotta stay calm." He
looked around at the three women and fumbled for something to say.
"Uh... look! Behind you! An owlbear!"
"An owlbear? Really? You couldn't come up with something less stupid
than that? I--" Then she heard grunting behind her. Turning around
swiftly, she saw an enormous bear with the head of an owl. It stared at
her with enormous, hate-filled eyes. "Well, I'll be damned."
The owlbear made some kind of bizarre hooting/growling noise and
slashed at her with its claws. She only barely managed to escape from
being ripped in half (as, thankfully, this isn't a Geoff Johns story).
"Uh..." said Painful Pun Person, who'd been quiet the whole time,
"don't you mean *owl* be damned?"
"Gaah!" The impact of the pun knocked her off her feet. "Don't do
that!"
"Uh... sorry, I can't always control my powers very well..."
"Use your powers on the owlbear!" shouted Irony Man.
"Uh..." She looked the owlbear in the eye. "Knock knock, who's
there?"
The owlbear stopped in its tracks and turned to her, looking
confused. It hooted/grunted.
"Owlbear."
It stared at her with its enormous eyes.
"Owlbear-ly make it out of this one alive!"
The owlbear exploded.
"What a shame," said Poignant Death Lass. "It was simply minding its
own business here, in its own home, before we barged in. Why can't we
ever find peace with nature?" She collapsed to the ground, sobbing.
"There's nothing natural about that thing," said Irony Man. "It's a
bear with an owl's head! And what's this thing even doing in the LNHQ?"
"That's a good question," said another voice. A rather stunning
dark-haired professional-looking woman who seemed to be in her early
thirties walked into the room. "I'm Tasha Vance, 10th-degree
pyschogeographer of the Martyrs of Hawksmoor. [An order of mystical
architects who previously appeared in LNH v2 #3-4 and Looniverse Y #11.
-- Footnote Girl, who's really getting a workout in this issue] You
hired me to help inspect the LNHQ, remember?"
"Uh... no."
She laughed. "I'm not surprised." She handed Irony Man a business
card, running her hand down the metal of the console unit. "You see,
these computer systems are part of your own mind. And that part doesn't
want you to remember a lot of the things down here. It's going to be
fighting back, in both subtle and obvious ways. And then there are all
the other dangers here..."
"Like what?"
"Monsters. The LNHQ already tends to attract them, and it's had a
lot more lately. There are rumors of a war going on in the Outer Planes
of the Usenetverse. Something drove a lot of monsters from places like
rec.games.frp.dnd and rec.games.roguelike.nethack into this world. Like
owlbears, otyughs, flailsnails, xorns, grognards..."
"Just great. On top of everything else, we have to deal with...
wait, what's that?" There was a scroll lying among the remains of the
owlbear.
"I certainly don't know," said Cynical Lass. "Why was that owlbear
carrying a scroll? And where was it carrying it?"
"We haven't studied them well enough to determine that one," she
said. She picked the scroll up off the floor. "I'll have to analyze it,
which could take some time. It could be very useful or very dangerous."
"Well, at least this can't get any more ridiculous and convoluted,"
said Poignant Death Lass.
Then another man walked into the room. He was dressed in what looked
like a simpler, less streamlined version of Irony Man's armor. "Sorry
I'm late!" he said.
"Wait, who are you?" said Irony Man.
He facepalmed. "I should have known." He took off his helmet. "I'm
Doug Moran. The original Irony Man. I mean, the *other* original Irony
Man. Ironically, we both invented this technology at the exact same
time, kind of like Newton and Liebniz. So we shared the role up until
Beige Noon, when Toony took over full time. You sent a message asking me
to come out of retirement and help sort this out, since I helped invent
this technology. Remember?"
"...no." He looked up into the air. "Uh... can we have a scene
change now? Please? Bunch of little LNHes and dashes?"
Thankfully, a scene change occurred, giving Irony Man a moment's
respite from his troubles.
"Whew."
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
"It was just... so good. So satisfying, you know?" Master Blaster
said, adjusting his grip on the stock of his weapon.
"I really don't want to hear this," said Anal-Retentive Archive Kid
II, his eyes sweeping the length of the corridor.
"I mean, I've shot people before. Lots and lots and lots of people,"
Master Blaster continued. "I've blown them up. Microwaved them. Made
them dance with sonics. But until this morning, I'd never dropped a nuke
on someone."
He inhaled deeply.
"I'd never experienced anything so intoxicating," Master Blaster
said. "And now I can't... I won't... wait until I can do it again."
"Did it ever occur to you," said the orc, keeping his voice low,
"that Horrible Name Lad is -- as far as anyone can figure out --
Japanese, and might have strong feelings about the indiscriminate use of
nuclear weapons? Or what about You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad...
you know... the one whose mouth you crammed a 15-megaton warhead into?"
"And did you see when he opened his mouth afterward? There was just
the tiniest... cutest... little mushroom cloud." Master Blaster sighed.
"Look," said ARAK. "I'm the last person in the world to be lecturing
someone else on social skills. But if you're going to continue..."
"Hold up," Master Blaster said.
"I'm not going to hold up. I... oh." Anal-Retentive Archive Kid
looked ahead to where the mysterious -- and so far, silent -- second
Irony Man had held up his hand to halt the group.
He took up a position above, and on the opposite side of the room
from, Master Blaster, who had flipped one of several dozen switches on
the side of his BIGGUN. The weapon began to hum.
Irony Man II (though perhaps with Doug Moran around, he was the
third -- but let's stick with this for now) shimmered for a moment, then
disappeared from view. Only someone who knew exactly where to look could
make out the faint outline of his armor against the background of the
hallway -- a hallway which had begun to echo with the sound of
footsteps.
A solitary figure rounded the corridor.
"It's a Dorf!" shouted You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad,
pushing past Master Blaster and shoving the invisible Irony Man to one
side in his eagerness to engage the alien.
The startled-looking Dorf had just seconds to gasp before You're-
Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad's fists began raining down on him,
launching into a protracted percussive period of punching that resembled
the sound of two very fast and accurate racquetball players practicing
against a wall of meat.
"That's enough!" Anal-Retentive-Archive Kid shouted, placing one
gauntleted hand around You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad's wrist.
"The Hell(tm) it is!" You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard Enough Lad said.
"First they invade my body... then they start taking over the bodies of
my friends? What's next? WHAT'S NEXT, YOU MONSTERS?"
"Actually," Master Blaster said, "if it was anyone other than my or
my friends' bodies, I'm not sure I would care all that much."
"What about the models on Project Runway?" Horrible Name Lad asked.
"Excellent point," Master Blaster conceded. "DIE SCREAMING, YOU
@#$%^&ING DORFS!"
"This one's not a Dorf," Anal-Retentive Archive Kid said quietly.
"He's... not?" You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad asked.
Irony Man shook his (now visible) head.
ARAK II reached down and removed what was now a tattered rubber mask
from the fallen figure's face.
"Bad Judgment Boy," he said. "I'm guessing he decided -- in the
spirit of the LNH's first adventure -- to dress up like a Dorf for
tonight's celebration."
"Oh my God," You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad said, kneeling at
Bad Judgment Boy's side. "Are you... Is he going to be..."
"I... have... owies," Bad Judgment Boy croaked. "Many, many owies."
"I suppose it could have been worse," Anal-Retentive Archive Kid
said. "One of us could have shot him."
"Nah," Master Blaster said. "I knew he wasn't a Dorf."
"You did?" Horrible Name Lad asked.
"Sure," Master Blaster said. "I'm one of the greatest marksmen who
ever walked the earth. You think I can't tell a guy in rubber mask from
a frickin' Dorf?"
Anal-Retentive Archive Kid exhaled audibly. "Then why," he said,
"didn't you do anything to stop You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad?"
Master Blaster shrugged. "It was Bad Judgment Boy," he said.
"Figured he had it coming."
"We need a strategy," ARAK II said. "We can't just wander the halls
attacking anything that moves. What if that had been a Dorfed-out
Ultimate Ninja? We'd all be in tiny pieces by now."
"Then we could call ourselves the 'Little Nuggets of Heroes',"
Horrible Name Lad suggested.
"Ultimate Ninja is the least of our worries," said the mechanized
voice of Irony Man.
Everyone -- with the exception of Bad Judgment Boy, who was unable
to move his head -- turned to look at the armored hero's expressionless
faceplate.
"You obviously haven't been with the Legion very long," Master
Blaster said. "I mean, I love the guy like a brother, but UN's been a
barely-controlled ball of homicidal rage for as long as I've known him.
It wouldn't take much to set him off."
"On the contrary," Irony Man said. "Someone who has spent a lifetime
learning to master his darkest urges would be unlikely to give in to the
Dorf virus. The ones we should be concerned about are those who have
never felt they had to learn to control themselves..."
--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--
==========
Next Week: Probably be to stuffed with turkey to post an issue
but maybe the week after LNH vII #50 Part FOUR!!!!
==========
Arthur "Same Classic Channel. But Same Time? Probably not." Spitzer
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