============================================================================= DVANDOM | -. -. -. | ________| ____ \ ,___ \ ____ \ ________| | .' \ | | / ` | | | | | | | / ___| | | | | ` / | | __| | | < | __| | | | ,--- \ \ | | | \ | | \ ` | | | / | \ / | ___| _______-' ___| ____\ -______-' ____________| #40 - CRISIS ON EARTH-GOON PART TWO: "A Tale Told By An Idiot" copyright 1994 by Dave Van Domelen A Coherent Comics UnIncorporated Production ============================================================================= [cover split into four unequal parts. In one, Sidewinder has a look of shock on his face. In the second, the Society of Wireless Heroes is trapped in a dark oubliette of some kind. The third shows the Newbie Syndicate facing off against Dvandom Force. The final, and smallest part, shows a brooding figure cloaked in shadows. In the center of the page is a question mark and the words, "Will there be a plot this issue?"] ============================================================================= Kid September smiled at the horror his introduction had inspired in his rescuers. "Well, thanks for the help, but we really have to be getting back to Earth-September and find out what happened to Troll Boy and Advertising Lass." Sig.Lad frowned. "How do you propose to do that? I assume you were left here because Killfile knew you couldn't escape even if the killfile wore off." Squidman winced as the group's leader asked such an obvious leading question. Must be due to one of the Syndicators' powers. "Um, Sig.Lad, I'm no Doc Stomper, but it's looking like A: Killfile is a good guy on Earth- September, and B: they plan to take our ship." Poli.Sig leaped to the forefront. "Come on, KS! We ain't got all day! There's an election coming up and I have this really cool comparison between Clinton and Hal Jordan I just gotta post to RACM!" "Let me take care of these self-proclaimed net.gods, everyone," boasted BBS Lad. "Their kind make me sick, acting like just because they were on the Usenet boards first makes them better. Here's a trick someone on my first BB taught me...." Suddenly a wave of repeated actions swept over the Forcers, as BBS Lad set up his system to post the same article every tenth of a second. The sheer pressure of the spammage drove Cheeez Arrow and Rotanna back against the hull of the CheeeZeppelin, and the others struggled against it. "You want FAST?" shouted Kid Macro. "Here's FAST! Try macro'ed cancel messages!" Kid Macro's fingers flew over his wristcomps, typing with both hands in a distinctive crossed-arms style, and suddenly cancel messages emanated outward faster than BBS Lad could vary his headers. Me Too Lass tried to help, but two copies of the same message are cancelled as easily as one. BBS Lad flew backwards, spent for the moment. "Me too!" added, well, you know. "Hey, what'd ya have ta go and do that for, you net.fascist!" cried Clueless Kid. "He wasn't doing anything wrong...." Kopikat growled and her eyes glowed, but Sig.Lad grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "I feel it too, Kat. He wants you to flame him...it'll make you look bad, and he'll never feel it. I've met his type before," he said. "That goes for all of you. Remember, newbies are mostly harmless, even archetypical ones like these. Their only power over others is to draw fire and drag people down to their level. Sure, they use up resources in the process of learning. But either they grow up or they get killfiled like these clowns were. If we get dragged into arguments over their views, or into exterded flames aimed at them, they can take us over...or at least sneak past and steal the ship. Cheeez Arrow, do something to keep them gummed up for a minute." "Right, one Cheeez Puff coming up." He nocked an arrow tipped with a small orange sphere and fired it at the Newbie Syndicate, who at the moment were milling about arguing amongst themselves. The tip suddenly expanded into a giant foamy mass which congealed and hardened into a crunchy dome completely covering the Newbies. "They'll be able to breathe through it, don't worry about suffocation. It'll take them a while to eat their way out." "Great. Everyone back in the ship. By the time they're free, I want us out of here. Hopefully their version of Killfile will discover the broken killfile and fix it before they actually figure out how to escape." Rotanna snorted. "Yeah, I doubt they could figure out how to eat their way out of the Cheeez Puff, let alone get enough of a clue to escape this odd interspace." Moments later, when Poli.Sig managed to emerge from the giant orange mound, the CheeeZeppelin was gone. "That does it, I'm definitely voting for the Net.Hero Registration Act next time it come around...." * * * * On the plus side, ATV Frank and his pawns weren't exactly the most observant of people, so Sidewinder was able to slip away and head for the next town with relative ease. On the minus side, being run over had done more than scrape his Harley's chrome, it had knocked something important loose...he wasn't enough of a mechanic to know what...and he'd ended up walking the last half mile into town when the engine died. The sign at the edge of town was still burning when he got to it, looked like one of the kids at Molotov'ed it for fun. Not that it really mattered. One small mountain town was very much like any other, he figured. Given the sheer number of dirtbikes in that pack, though, there had to be some kind of decent repair shop in the area. He hoped it was here. As he walked into town, he noticed that most of the residents looked alike. All the men were somewhat squat and lantern-jawed with wide-set eyes, and all the women had round faces and full figures. He'd have chalked it up to simple inbreeding, except there was something else about them...the way they made even the simplest of actions seem dynamic and dramatic. It seemed so familiar, but he was too tired to think straight, so he filed it away for later. As long as this wasn't a town full of aliens disguised as humans, he didn't much care now. A few locals made sympathetic gestures on seeing him walking his Harley, and one pointed down the street and nodded. Looking that way, Sidewinder saw a sign proclaiming "Jack's Automotive Repair and Service." Giving a short high sign in acknowledgment, Sidewinder hauled his hog the few blocks to the shop and then put down the kickstand. A stocky man in a mechanic's uniform, looking something like E.E. "Transmission" Kwerks's long lost brother, stepped out of the 60's style station and knocked back his cap. "Looks like ya got in a bit of an accident, mister. C'mon, haul it in here, I think I gots some spare parts from a Harley that didn't quite make it. Oh, fergot ta introduce myself. I'm Jim Hardy, but you can call me Jack, everyone does." He put out his massive paw of a hand and Sidewinder tentatively grasped it, feeling like he was shaking hands with Curly. Jack's grip was firm, but not overbearingly so. A Man's Handshake. "Hi, Jack. Could I use your phone for a 1-800 call? I'm one of the Legion of Net.Heroes and I need to call in something, but my comm.thingy's broken." "I would, except those darn kids cut the phone lines again. Might be fixed by next week, dunno though. We tend ta get by pretty good without phone lines ta the outside here. If it's an emergency, the Sheriff's got a shortwave you might use, unless he's taken it apart again." Jack grinned widely and warmly, showing a mouth full of straight, white teeth. "Sh-" he started, then stopped himself. Somehow, he felt that cursing just wasn't done here. "Shucks. And I guess you can't take credit cards either, with the lines down?" "Oh, I can fill out the forms and all that without phone lines. And anyone who rides a Harley and is a net.hero's gotta be good for a few hundred, right? Don't sweat it." He opened the engine up and frowned. "This'll take an hour or so, the Sheriff's usually at his office this time of day, it's two blocks down, then left a block, can't miss it. Oh, and try Jack's Diner for some lunch, ya look like ya could use a good meal." "Sure. Say, do you run Jack's Diner too?" Jack chuckled. "No, Reed King does, but everyone calls him Jack too. Actually, it's a bit of a local color thing...all th' guys go by Jack unless we have ta use our Christian names fer somethin'." "Oh, like the Australian 'Bruces', eh?" "Dunno, never met an Australian. But sounds right. Now go see Jack, the Sheriff...oh, his name really is Jack, by th' way." Jack grinned. "Thanks." Sidewinder stepped out of the garage and into the mid-afternoon sunshine, feeling his stomach growl for some lunch. After a quick stop at Jack's Diner for a carryout burger and some thick fries, he made his way to the Sheriff's office. * * * * As we join the Goons, they've been sufficiently stamped and posted to Sig.ago, no doubt to be delivered into the fiendish clutches of the Little Man, the biggest, er, littlest, um, most powerful mobster on the Goonivearth. Even now, it's a mere ten minutes until the postman makes his collection...can they escape in time? And if they don't, can they at least fill the time in a manner that could rightly be considered entertainment? Well.... "There, I've made it out of the brown paper parcel!" exclaimed Ned Thunderbox. Dustbinman's voice could be heard from a parcel containing a bottle-shaped object. "What strength!" "Dustbinman, what are you doing in that bottle?" "I know the man at the door! Ohaiow-ho-ho...." "eeEEE! I am the man at the door, you rotted swine! And you're crushing my East Finchley Boy Scout-type lunch with your boots, so get out!" wheezed Blue Bottle. "Never fear, I'll have you out of there as soon as I can find a bottle opener. Drat, never have one of the things when you really need one...." Ned patted himself down, but found nothing save, well, lots and lots of Ned. "Ohaiowohoho! Lucky for you I happened by!" came a voice from the far end of the mailbox. "Fortnightman!" exclaimed Ned. "So the fiends captured you as well?" "Sadly, yes. I fought the good fight, Neddie lad, and in the end I had them crawling...CRAWLING on their hands and knees!" "How did you do that?" "I hid in a drainpipe! Ohhhhh, I'm in condition tonight! Still, we must escape this postbox before the dreaded postman comes to collect us!" "Right! Major, you uncork that bottle and pour Dustbinman and Blue Bottle out while I unwrap WildCrun, Black Minnie and Atom Jim! Hurry, man!" "Ah, Dustbinman, good to see you on the outside of a bottle again," exclaimed Fortnightman. "But what's this froth on the wall?" "That's me, you rotten swine!" shouted Blue Bottle. "I'll never get my knees untied now!" "Oh, dreadfully sorry. Here, let me sponge you off the wall with this bit of eiderdown." "Fortnightman, put WildCrun down this instant!" interjected Neddie. "Aioow...nk nk nk, you sinful deserter you," nuttered WildCrun as he feebly thrashed around at the end of Fortnightman's arm. Forstalling any more comparisons between fellow Goons and insubstantial substances, Ned drew himself up to his full commanding height of three foot four. "People, we must get out of this postbox! Dustbinman, lift me up onto your shoulders and maybe we can climb out." "Righty-o. HEAVE!" "No good. I still can't reach it." Dustbinman had a sudden inspiration, and after he'd breathed in he also had an idea. "Wait, you stay there, and I'll get up on your back!" "Right. Hup!" "Nope, still no good. You climb onto my shoulders." "Watch the old tennis strain...there! No, no good." Dear readers, consider if you will the situation Ned and Dustbinman have gotten themselves into. Neddie gets up on Dustbinman's shoulders, and then, remaining halfway up a wall, lifts Dustbinman onto *his* shoulders. Then Dustbinman once more gets on Ned's shoulders, and so forth. Now, what is the difference between Neddie and Dustbinman, and the ground? I'll tell you, it's.... "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Exactly! "You'll get an OBE for that, narrator!" threatened Ned. "Never mind that, Neddie," interrupted Fortnightman. "We have to find a way out of here in only," he checked his wristwatch, "coming up on three minutes and fifteen seconds!" "Everyone, quick! See if you can find any parcels of ladders or rope!" "No," replied Dustbinman, "but there's a rubber dinghy here addressed to a fellow named Jack." "We're SAVED!" proclaimed Ned. "We'll sail out of here!" "But we haven't got any water!" countered Fortnightman. "Dustbinman, any parcels of water?" "Nope." "Then we'll have to dig for it! Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat?" Ned intoned the magic phrase to summon his mystic Thunderbox. "Wot, mate?" it answered in a rumbling voice. "I want you to dig down for water!" "Right, mate." And so the Society of Wireless Heroes started digging for water, right over one of Net.ropolis's not-so-famous-but-you-hear-about-them-once-in-a- while underground rivers. Will they find it? "'E fallen in da warter!" chirped Atom Jim as WildCrun and Black Minnie woke up and sputtered a bit before going back to sleep. * * * * The movie file ended again. He had watched it a dozen times or more, and still it held a sort of morbid fascination over him. To see an entire universe wiped out because of the uncaring actions...no, the deliberate and malicious interference of people playing God with something they hardly understood and could never appreciate. To think that unthinking reactionaries in an entirely different reality could have such power of life and death over him, to the extent that he was powerless to act against it? It was nearly unthinkable, in fact. Certainly, he knew that actions in one reality could affect others. He'd done it himself a number of times. But that almost always required knowledge and power. And in their own reality, these cretins had only the barest smattering of either requirement. Oh, certainly they had political power in their home domain. And a quick check of the political and current events groups had revealed that a more religiously conservative faction had gained in political power in the "world above" recently. But since when has that even started to compare with the power of life and death over entire realities? Since now, he knew. Rather, since a few weeks ago when he intercepted that movie file transmission sent throughout the LNHQ [see LOH #4 - Ed.]. And in those weeks, he had brooded over how he could do what his counterpart had failed to do. However, with only the few minutes of data, how could he find the solution his counterpart had missed? This had obsessed him of late, had nagged at his mind and soul. Perhaps this was a purpose he could successfully bend his powers to, if not the life-goal he lacked. He had almost absently approved the sale of a time machine to that old has-been, Per Annum, so preoccupied he had been. Acton Lord turned from the screen and stretched. Perhaps he should check on that, he mused. Not that there was any danger to him from this...he hadn't been so preoccupied as to give Per Annum the power to alter the real present. No, there would merely be a new alternate reality out there now. Still, in his prime the old man had been good for a few laughs, seeing what he has wrought now might be amusing and give Acton Lord's head a chance to clear. He was too wound up to think about weighty issues now. Tapping a few keys, he brought up the sensor net secretly installed in the time machine and accessed images and files from the reality it currently found itself in. For a few minutes, he chuckled softly to himself as he discovered the nature of the world Per Annum had created...a rather silly place. Then a red-highlighted box popped up. Someone had just entered that dimension using magical methods. A short list scrolled up, showing power profiles and best-guesses of the beings who had entered this Gooniverse. The other names all but faded from Acton Lord's view when he saw the name at the top. Sig.Lad. "So, Sig.Lad...wait! That's it! SIG.LAD!" Clearing the screen, Acton Lord excitedly brought the movie file up again and panned forward to that reality's Sig.Lad appearing. He only appeared from the waist up in most shots, but...there! At his side, the Sword of .Sig! Of course! If the Multiversal Office Building was truly Multiversal, there's only one, and *he* found it, not his counterpart. His counterpart may have found the local Universal Office, but never discovered the secret of the Multiversal Office Building, hence Sig.Lad didn't need to leave his Sword of .Sig behind, as Acton Lord's sensors had revealed to him after he recovered from 'death.' It's quite possible that the other Acton Lord never reached the more "real" PluRealities, or perhaps they were indeed unreachable from his Looniverse. Unfortunately, he would need to act through intermediaries. For his plan to work, he'd need to find a particular entity in the "real world," one whose alt.versions he was already somewhat familiar with. But in the real world, his powers would not function...reality itself was too strong to be corrupted. But if he could insert an agent into the mix, subtly influence this agent into seeking out his target, then he could exert his powers on the man from safe within the Looniverse, using the agent as a stalking horse. But who? This was a deadly serious task, and the title he currently operated out of was getting sillier with every passing issue. He needed to find someone he could easily manipulate, who was 'nearby' (in the same title) and was still reasonably serious. He smiled. He knew just the pawn, a net.hero he had once captured, once impersonated in another life...and one whose own powers could be corrupted to allow him entry into the Real World with a minimum of effort on Acton Lord's part. Now he had only to wait for that power to be used, and he could corrupt it to the absolute expression.... * * * * As luck would have it, the Sheriff was on his way to a town meeting being called to discuss what to do about all those rowdy kids on dirtbikes, so Sidewinder tagged along. Better (and easier on the narrative) to only have to tell his tale once. Seeing as it was a nice day, the meeting was being held outside at the Town Square, so any interested townspeople could listen in. Jack, the Mayor, called the meeting to order. "All right, people. You all know that kids will be kids, but our kids are being too rowdy lately. These dirtbike-riding shenanigans need to stop before it gets more serious than a little vandalism and not picking up pizzas that they've ordered for takeout. And apparently it's more than just young wildings here, since we seem to have attracted the attention of the Legion of Net.Heroes, all the way out in Net.ropolis." He pointed to Sidewinder, who cleared his throat and spoke. "Actually, I was just passing through on vacation, but it's a good thing I did. You're right in assuming that this isn't normal juvenile delinquency, in fact it's being caused by, er..." Sidewinder turned slightly red. There really wasn't any sane-sounding way to put this. "Well, it may sound odd, but a shapechanging robot from another dimension is using subsonics to brainwash your youth population." A general hubbub broke out, but not one of disbelief or panic like he'd expected. A voice rose above it. "Ha! I win the pool! Pay up, Jack!" "No, sir," countered another. "We only have his word it's a shapechanging robot from another dimension. This could be a front for a lost subterranean civilization out to reclaim lost glories!" "Or the tool of a European Dictator!" added a third. The Mayor shouted them all down. "Hush, allayou! You all know there's no payoff until we have confirmation from the Postmaster. And it still could be time travellers from an alternate post-nuclear-holocaust future, too." At this point, Sidewinder felt right at home, and this freaked him out, since small mountain town residents shouldn't be taking bets on this kind of thing. Still, abnormal or no, he was the net.hero. It was his responsibility to protect these people until help could be gotten from the rest of the Legion. "Excuse me," he called out over the renewed hubbub of people jeering at the Mayor and throwing out their own pet theories. "It's important we restore contact to the outside somehow, so we can call in the Legion to deal with the robot mind-controller. I figure...." He was cut off by a man he recognized as the one who'd pointed him to Jack's Repair Shop. "Wait, that Harley you walked in...did it get damaged because of that robot Dirtbike?" "Um, yes." There was a gasp of horror from the crowd. "Okay, this has gone beyond pranks, everyone!" shouted the Mayor. "They've done harm to this man's Harley Davidson...it's time for a little good old fashioned discipline. If we hurry, we can catch them before they get to MacGuyversville!" And with that, it seemed like everyone suddenly sprouted metal. Bug-eye- lensed solar refractor cannons...ion-displacement rifles...jet packs mounted on chinstrap-equipped powersuits. Then the ground opened up as underground bunkers were accessed, and hulking battlesuits with open cockpits and three- fingered hands rose out of the street, with residents throwing off aprons, ties and other work-day accoutrements and leaping to the controls. Around the corners rumbled 16-treaded tanks with huge crystal spheres mounted on turretted barrels, spheres that crackled with negative energy. Sidewinder just stood there with his mouth hanging open as the town all but emptied out, a column of semi-plausible technology heading east out of town. "Well, guess they don't need my help after all. Again," sighed Sidewinder before turning to see how Jack was doing on his Harley. When he got there, he saw the cycle was good as new, with fresh KirbyKrome on it too! A note was taped to the left pannier. "This one's on the house, kid. Gone ta make sure my pool choice was wrong after all. Jack" The gauge showed full on gas. Pausing a moment, Sidewinder slapped an LNH "business card" on the counter and wrote on the back, "Call if you actually need help. Sidewinder" Then he revved up the motor and drove out. The old familiar tug of his power was starting to fade, the power that forever doomed him to be sidelined after getting something going. As he approached the edge of town, he wondered why he could still feel it...after all, he'd been sidelined already, right? Then suddenly there was a gust of wind, a blurring of sight as a dust cloud sprang up out of nowhere. When it died down, Sidewinder was gone from the Looniverse, and all that could be seen aside from the trees was the sign welcoming visitors to town. "WELCOME TO KIRBYTOWN" * * * * Aboard the CheeeZeppelin, Rotanna shuddered suddenly and uncontrollably. Kid Macro was the first to her side, steadying her. "What happened?" he asked as the slower members of the team looked away from the view of the Net.ropolis skyline visible through the front window. "It...it was like a million plotlines cried out in terror and then were silenced...." she muttered. "Really?" asked Cheeez Arrow. "Well, no," admitted Rotanna, shaking off the oogie feeling that had made her shudder. "More like we suddenly *have* a plotline. Looks like the author finally figured out where this is going." Not wanting to be left out of the referencing, Sig.Lad shook his head adn said, "I've got a bad feeling about this...." * * * * Dear listeners, do *you* have a bad feeling about this? Write your responses down on a piece of paper and send them to anybody but us. Thank you. ============================================================================== Author's Notes: Last issue I forgot to admit to all the Goon Show episodes I referenced, but a clever reader spotted them all anyway. Episodes more heavily referenced in #39 include: The Case of the Vanishing Room The Great Bank of England Robbery Napoleon's Piano * The Phantom Punch-Up-The-Conker The Rent Collectors * Wings Over Dagenham * Episodes marked with an asterisk are available on the four tape collections released in the US by the BBC, check your local library. Just about every bit of Goonishness in this issue was lifted from The Great Bank of England Robbery, except for the bit about the drainpipe, which comes from Lost Horizontally (or whatever the official title is). Great thanks to Paul Hardy's excellent fourth issue of Legion of Occult Heroes, which gave me the idea for an actual plot to wrap this up with. And watch for more Goonishness in issue five of that worthy series.