LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #289: The Flame Wars Part One
Arthur Spitzer
arspitzer2 at gmail.com
Sun Jun 11 13:53:51 PDT 2023
And we're back in the past and can check the eyrie archive
once again.
And here's where you can find The Flame Wars as well as other
LNH Crossovers:
https://archives.eyrie.org/racc/lnh/Crossovers/
And it's The Flame Wars (The first of a number of Flame Wars
Crossovers that are also called Flame Wars)!
We have The Flame Wars #1 by Jeff "Drizzt" Barnes! Is it time
for Rebel Yell to call a number he thought he'd never call?!
Is it time for some Mysterious Menace to overpay the Brotherhood
to blow up the LNHHQ (I mean a trillion dollars and 59 cents seems
a bit much)?! Is it time for The Ultimate Ninja to futilely shout
'Order!' into the unfettered chaos that is the LNH?! And is it time
for Grammar Lad to do what he does best (which I assume is to
nitpick other people's grammar errors)?!!
Find out in...
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|_| OF NET.HEROES
ADVENTURES #289
=====================
The Flame Wars Part One
=====================
From: Drizzt (barnejd at wkuvx1.bitnet)
Date: Nov 30, 1992, 8:02:06 AM
TTTTT H H EEEE FFFF L AAAA M M EEEE W W AAAA RRRR SSSS
T H H E F L A A MM MM E W W A A R R S
T HHHHH EEE FFF L AAAA MMMMM EEE W W W AAAA RRRR SSSS
T H H E F L A A M M M E WWWWW A A R R S
T H H EEEE F LLLL A A M M EEEE WW WW A A R R SSSS
CHAPTER ONE
by Drizzt (barnejd at wkuvx1.bitnet)
"Strange Things Afoot"
It was coming closer. A hideous monster, with piercing green
eyes. It reached toward him, laughing horribly, and grasped him
with one huge, leather-gloved hand. Rebel Yell felt himself
lifted effortlessly from the ground, felt the pressure as the
hand contracted around him.
"No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
He awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. Gasping for breath, the
Southern Sentinel sat up. It was just the dream again, he said,
just the dream. It was just because Luri was gone, he thought.
Rebel Yell paused. What if it was more than that? What if his
dreams were a portent of something to come?
He reached for the phone and began to dial a number he never
thought he'd call.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In a far away secret base, the Brotherhood of Net.Villains held
their weekly meeting, their new leader (tm 1992 M*rv*l), Mr.
Homage, presiding.
"Current figures show profits are up for this quarter, due to
the ouster of Table as leader and our redevotion to profit rather
than revenge." Homage's lips twisted beneath the iron Doom-like
mask.
"That's not what I heard," Rumor Monger whispered to Dyslexia.
"In other developments, let's all welcome our newest member,
the new and improved Hooded Ho`'od Win." The mysterious hooded
figure nodded at the polite applause. "As you may know, the
former Ho`'od Win retired from being a superhero some time ago."
Repetitive Lad leaned over to Professor Perhap. "I heard this
was a different Ho`'od Win than the one in the LNH. Seems she
retired..."
Mr. Homage cleared his throat, glaring at Repetitive Lad until
the latter sank into sheepish silence. "However, our efforts to
track down Dr. Boring to recover the Stethoscope of Doom have
been less than successful. I have... removed Professor Perhap
and his wild dogs from the assignment." He glared at Perhap, who
squirmed in his seat. "Does anyone have any ideas as to how to
continue?"
The Robgoblin cleared his throat tentatively.
"Yes?" Homage demanded.
"Maybe we should hire outside help? I hear that guy Y-Plex
Burp is starting to reestablish his organization..." He trailed
off.
Homage stood silently for a few moments. At length, he spoke.
"Yes, I think that may be for the best." Robgoblin sighed his
relief audibly.
"In other business, we have received a message from Fanboy King
and the Image Idiots, proposing an alliance. Everyone consider
this, and we'll take it up at the next meeting."
"Is there any further business?" No one answered. "Very well,
then. This meeting of the Brotherhood of Net.Villains stands
adjourned.
Homage whirled, his cape flapping in the breeze. He walked
down the corridor to his quarters and flung open the door. He
stepped in, only to sense that he was not alone.
"Who's there?" he growled. "So help me, Revamp Lass, if that's
you... I warned you last time I just was not interested."
A shadowy figure emerged. "No, it is not Revamp Lass, the
Mistress of Retcon. It is I."
"Who are you?"
The figure did not speak, but only stepped forward into the
light enough for Homage to see his face. The Lord of Rip-Offs
drew a sharp breath. "You!"
"Yes, it is I. And I know exactly who you are, as well, Homage
- or should I call you -"
"No. He is dead. Only Homage remains."
"Very well, then. The reason I have come concerns our mutual
foe - the Legion of Net.Heroes."
Mr. Homage sneered. "Your foe, perhaps, but not mine. I have
transcended the sort of revenge-minded bitterness that infests
most of our kind. My business is business."
The mysterious visitor laughed. "Come now, can you tell me you
do not feel any emotion at all toward the LNH? After all the
times they defeated your intricate plans, all the times they
humiliated you in combat, all the times those buffoons 'proved'
how good will always overcome evil, all the-"
"Stop! I get the idea," Homage said. "But I don't see what
point revenge would make."
"Then think of it this way." His visitor leaned forward,
clasping his hands together. Homage noted the presence of a
bejewelled leather glove on one hand. "The LNH is a potential
threat to your illegal activities. Just how long do you think
you can remain unnoticed?"
"What would you have me do? There's not much I *can* do."
The newcomer smiled. "Now, there is. He gestured, and a small
device appeared.
"What's that?" Homage queried.
"A bomb, one capable of destroying an entire city block. Or
the LNH's headquarters..."
"Insidious."
"Thank you, but I prefer 'nefarious'. In addition, this
briefcase," he said, handing Homage a heavy package, "contains
one trillion dollars and 59 cents, US currency. Consider it
payment for taking care of the Legion."
Homage looked down at the briefcase, his mouth watering. He
turned back to his ally. "How can I ever-" He stopped short.
His visitor was gone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Order!" Ultimate Ninja shouted over the din. Someone pegged
him with a spitball. "That does it," he muttered. The Ninja
hopped up onto the table. "I said, I call this meeting to
order!!!"
In response, a paper airplane sailed toward him. In the blink
of an eye, the Ninja drew his Ginsu Cut-em-All sword, sliced it
to confetti, and poised the katana's point against the neck of
the culprit - Bad Timing Boy. The room quickly grew silent.
"I said," he repeated for the third time, his voice a dangerous
purr, "Order."
Everyone meekly and quickly took their seats.
"That's better." He withdrew his weapon, much to Bad-Timing
Boy's relief, and resumed his seat. "We have a few matters to
take care of before we disperse." He noted Rebel Yell slink in
late, something most unlike the Southerner.
Ultimate Ninja continued. "Contraption Man has posited a few
modifications on the Peril Room. Cannon Fodder, you and Captain
Clean-Up will be required to assist in the testing."
"Why is it always me?" Cannon Fodder whined. "It's always
'Cannon Fodder, can you help me with this?' 'Cannon Fodder,
look, I've learned a new trick.' 'Cannon Fodder'..." He broke
off as the ninja began to reach for his sword. "No prob, boss."
"I thought not." UN picked up a piece of paper. "The latest
informal poll of Legionnaires shows we've lost quite a few.
Panta took a leave of absence, Cliche Dude has gone on reserve,
ad nauseam. Fortunately, we have regained the services of
Continuity Champ and Obscure Trivia Lad, as well as picking up a
few new LNHers, like Pocket Man and Generic Man. So our current
membership is somewhere around 1000 or so." He turned to glare
at RosterwReam. "We'd know exact figures except some *moron*
hasn't done the roster yet..."
"Anyway, that's it for this week. Dismissed." The war room
broke out into chaos as the Ninja walked out the door, shaking
his head.
He caught sight of a figure up ahead. It was Rebel Yell.
"Hey, Yell!"
The Southerner turned. "Yeah?"
"I've been meaning to ask you what you think of my plans about
the traitor. I've got Doctor Stomper looking around to find out
who it is. Personally, I think it's Spelling Boy. Just in case,
though, I've let Irony Man keep an eye on Contraption Man; it
would be ironic indeed if he was the LNHer who destroyed the
LNH."
"Uh-huh," Yell grunted. "Whatever you guys decide is okay with
me." He turned and was gone.
The Ninja stood and stared in shock. He knew Rebel Yell had
been
decidedly un-Rebel Yellish since Lurking Girl had left, but -
"you guys"?!? The Rebel Yell he knew would *never* have said
anything like that.
Then the alarm went off.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Grammer Lad huddled behind the wreckage of the meeting room
table, trying to formulate some type of defense against their
assailants. The Brotherhood of Net.Villains had hit them hard
and fast, with no warning. It was only Nit-Pick Lad's fast
reflexes that had allowed him to pull the alarm before Dyslexia
had downed him. Now she was facing off against her arch-enemy
Spelling Boy. Professor Perhap and his wild dogs, despite their
vested interest in stopping the Dictionarial Defender, had
decided instead to corner some of the less powerful Legionnaires
in one corner. Myk-El used a chair to fend them off, as Obscure
Trivia Lad bashed another, his android nature making him nigh
invulnerable to their snapping jaws. Late Night Lad was battling
the Sleeper Agent, as Rumor Monger tormented Marvel_Zombie Lad
with tales of "Fantastic Four Unlimited" and "Secret Defenders".
The situation was, to say the least, out of hand.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ultimate Ninja pounded on the door futilely. It had been
sealed, and he was powerless to get in, as not even his Ginsu
blades could cut pure Strongstuffium.
Then he noticed the ventilation shaft.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Grammer Lad dodged Color-Error Man's blast, which hit the wall
behind him and turned it a hot pink. As he started across the
room toward his new foe, he heard Romantic-Innuendo singing "I
Feel Pretty" as he attempted to bend LNHers to his will. The
villain quickly exerted his powers on California Kid, who
promptly laid a heavy kiss on Catalyst Lass. "I'd be glad to
share your interests," he murmured.
Grammer Lad then noticed someone cloaked in the dust and
darkness behind the villains. He tried to focus on the figure,
but it was gone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"At last," Ultimate Ninja muttered to himself. It had taken
long, agonizing minutes to twist through the air shafts in LNHQ
to get to the war room. Whoever decided to make them 4 feet
square in movies ought to be fed a cow lung, he mused pleasantly.
Kicking the shaft cover off, the Ninja leaped down, preparing
to cut down his foes with Ninja bush.
However, he was in the medi-lab. Knew I should have taken a
right back there instead of a left, he berated himself. Then he
heard a voice from behind him.
"You are too late, Ninja." He whirled, swords at the ready to
see a 7 foot tall man in battle armor.
"Do I know you?"
"No, we have never met, but I have encountered your
organization before. I am... Mr. Homage!"
"Never heard of you, but I'll be glad to take care of you."
The mastermind laughed. "I doubt that. You see, you have
about fifteen seconds before that bomb," he pointed toward a
small, beeping device, "explodes. Have fun." Homage hit a
button on his belt and vanished. At the same time, the rest of
the Brotherhood teleported away as well.
The Ninja bent over the bomb, examining the wires.
Fourteen seconds.
There were five wires there.
Thirteen seconds.
He dismissed one of them as nothing but a decoy.
Twelve seconds.
Two more, blue and green, were of no use in defusing the bomb.
Eleven seconds.
Which left two wires - one red, one white.
Ten seconds.
Which one?
Nine seconds.
One would deactivate it, the other would explode it.
Eight seconds.
He racked his brain for an answer.
Seven seconds.
A rhyme lingered in the back of his mind...
Six seconds.
... but he could not remember it.
Five seconds,
So the Ninja drew his sword...
Four seconds.
...and cut the red one.
Three seconds.
Then he remembered the rhyme...
Two seconds.
"White, you're right..."
One second.
"...red, you're dead."
Zero.
KKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
MMMM!!!!
TO BE CONTINUED?
==========
Next Week: Some more FLAME WARS!!!!
==========
Arthur "Same Classic Channel. But Same Time? Probably not." Spitzer
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