Blue Light Productions presents:

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        [Cover has Fan.Boy cowering in the centre bottom, surrounded
         by various members of the LNH, such as the Ultimate Ninja,
         Master Blaster, and... Fan.Boy. Behind them stands another
         being, but his face is hidden.]


"I awoke in a fever,
the bedclothes were all soaked in sweat.
She said 'You've been having a nightmare.
But it's not over yet.'"                
                - Sexual Revolution -- Roger Waters


Trumpet Man drew in breath, brought his trumpet to his lips, and blew. 
He knew that this was fairly drastic torture, but it was richly 
deserved. The object of his wrath was a shopkeeper, who had refused to 
serve him merely because he was attending to a customer who had 
suffered a heart attack. Really, as if any customer (pleb) could rate 
anywhere as importantly as an LNHer.
        As the musical 'notes' disrupted the air, Trumpet Man observed 
with pleasure their effect on the hapless shopkeeper. If he hadn't 
needed his breath for playing his trumpet, he would have laughed mightily.
        With one ear, he heard someone muttering. The words were 
something like "^&^&, &%&!, !&^@."

        Wow... that was... wow.. _actual_ punctuation... he had heard 
_actual_ punctuation. That was... wow...
        Trumpet Man shook off the trance, and realised that he had 
stopped playing while he had gaped foolishly at hearing mere 
punctuation. Turning to the speaker, he quickly threw Flight of the 
Bumblebee at them, then lowered his trumpet to see who had assailed him.
        His features paled visibly (although, after his performance, 
no-one was conscious to see them), as he looked at the face of the 
second most powerful being in the Legion of Net.Heroes.


Trumpet Man flew through the air with the unconscious body in his arms. 
He was also sweating. Not from the air, that was cool enough, but from 
the thought of the punishment he would receive from everybody who was 
his superior. (At the last count, this was every other member, except 
for Criticism Dude, of course.)
        He dropped through the air, and landed delicately outside the 
building that housed the Legion. Even from here, he could here a 
familiar voice shouting inside. "Unless you want to become a vile 
species of toad, I suggest that you learn how to answer phones properly!"
        Trumpet Man raised a foot to kick the doors open, seeing as how 
his arms were full, when a thought struck him. Hang on, that voice. It's 
familiar because... He looked at the body in his hands. It was familiar 
because it belonged to the person currently lying unconscious in his arms.
        Trumpet Man felt relief flood through him. Although he was sure 
someone was going to get into trouble for this, he no longer believed it 
was him.
        He kicked the doors open triumphantly, and marched in. He was 
right! Standing in front of him, extruding his usual fury, was the same 
person he was carrying in his arms.
        When the other person saw who it was, or, more importantly, saw 
who Trumpet Man was carrying, he gaped. "What the smeg...?" Trumpet Man 
had the brief pleasure of seeing the second most powerful LNHer totally 
flabbergasted for a moment.
        However, that moment was short lived. "Get him into medbay. I 
want Doctor Trampler on this straight away."
        Trumpet Man hurriedly disappeared in the direction of the lifts.


When Fan.Boy finally awoke, it was to a very puzzling sight. He was 
lying on a bed, in what was probably the medlab, and standing above him 
were two figures he knew quite well.
        One, the man he knew as Doctor Stomper, was familiar to him as 
he was the fifth person Fan.Boy had met when he came to the LNH.
        The other person was familiar as... well, it was himself. On his 
other's face was a similar frown of confusion.
        "Well, what is it?"
        "He's you," said the Doctor. "Physically... genetically, he is 
you. Probably an alt.self," he mused.
        "Wonderful. What do we do with him?"
        Fan.Boy spoke up. "Can I ask something?"
        "No," replied his other self.
        Fan.Boy asked anyway. "Who are you people?"
        His other self seemed to struggle against something, but finally 
gave in. "We are the LNH. We're heroes that help keep the earth free 
from evil. Without our control, only chaos would rule."
        Fan.Boy blinked. "Say what?"
        "We are the rulers of the world. We dictate how everyone lives. 
Without our protection, evil would have a free hand in this world."
        "Almost correct," boomed a voice behind them, causing the two 
who stood to swing around rapidly. In the medbay doorway stood a 6 ft 7 
spandexed figure. The suit was predominantly white, with red boots and 
blue gloves. He wore no mask, and his face was set in a sneer. His head 
was crowned with white hair.
        The two people who stood over Fan.Boy immediately knelt. "My 
liege," they intoned.
        Fan.Boy gazed at the new figure, who returned the stare.
        "You are in need of correction once again, Faq Boy." Fan.Boy's 
other self, who was evidently called Faq Boy, winced at the sound of his 
name. It was not spoken politely.
        "_We_ do not rule the earth. *I* rule the earth. I merely share 
my benevolence with you."
        "Yes, my liege," said the Doctor quickly. "And we are grateful 
for the great honour you bestow on our humble unworthy selves."
        "And rightly so, Doctor Trampler. For who should not fear... the 
Roster King!"
        At this point, Fan.Boy decided that he would rather listen to 
Guitar Man again than face this man. (At least he now knew, after 
reading Guitar Man #6, that GM's melting wasn't his fault.)
        The Roster King turned to Faq Boy. "Who is this person that 
looks like you?"
        "He appears to be one of my alt.selves... sir."
        "Hmm, interesting. Remind me to add it to your entry sometime."
        "Yes, sir."
        The Roster king addressed Fan.Boy. "What is your name?"
        " name?"
        "Yes, yes, spit it out."
        "I'm Fan.Boy."
        "Really," said the Roster King, throwing a sideways glance at 
Faq Boy. "How droll. Oh well, carry on."
        "Yes, sir. What would you like done with him?" asked Faq Boy.
        "Oh, throw him in a cell below for now. I'm sure I'll find some 
interesting use for him sometime."
        "Certainly, sir."
        Faq Boy and Doctor Trampler each grabbed one of Fan.Boy's arms 
and dragged him off the bed and out the door.


While they were transferring Fan.Boy to a cell, he tried to find out more 
about where he was.
        "Who was that man?"
        "The Roster King? He runs this place. In fact he runs the entire 
world. Oh, the Prodigal Samurai would like people to believe that he is 
in charge of the LNH, especially after he killed the Southern Shouter 
and tried to rape his girlfriend, Slinking Lass, before she escaped, but 
we all know he's just a figure head."
        "Prodigal Samurai? Southern Shouter? Slinking Lass?"
        "Of course, you're from an alt.dimension aren't you? Here, try 
reading this." Faq Boy drew out a roll of paper from somewhere and held 
it out in front of Fan.Boy so he could read it.
        "What is it?" Fan.Boy asked, peering at the paper.
        "The LNH Faq. I'm in charge of it. That's why I'm called Faq Boy."

[Extract from the LNH Faq. Section 3]


  .1 What is the LNH?
  .2 Why should I care about the LNH?
  .3 What if I don't read comics?
  .4 Is there a roster of members available?
  .5 Well, this is all great, but I can't get alt.comics.lnh on my system.
     Should I commit harri-kari?
  .6 How do I join this noble assemblage?
  .7  How is the LNH expanding beyond Usenet?
  .8  Who is the most powerful LNHer?
  .9  What are the rules of the LNH?
  .10 What sources of LNH information are there?
  .11 What is/was the 2 1/2 Month Gap and Beige Noon?
  .12 What is the NTB, and how does it relate to the LNH?
  .13 What is the New Reader's Oath?
  .14 Why not split the LNH?

Q.1     What is the LNH?

A.1     The Legion of Net.Heroes is a group of beings brought together 
by under the kind leadership of the Roster King, who knows what is best 
for everyone. (All praise him.) To belong to the LNH is to belong to the 

Q.2     Why should I care about the LNH?

A.2     The Roster King cares for you, and you love your King. All care 
for the LNHers and obey them, and any who don't are inflicted with the 
worst punishment.

Q.3     What if I don't read comics?

A.3     If you don't read comics, you wont understand the LNH, or its 
kind and wonderful leader, the Roster King. Misunderstanding the Roster 
King is not advised.

Q.4     Is there a roster of members available?

A.4     The almighty Roster King holds the roster and controls its 
information. Any request for viewing this sacred document should be 
submitted in writing. (See the section labelled "Petitions.")

Q.5     Well, this is all great, but I can't get alt.comics.lnh on my 
        system.  Should I commit harri-kari?

A.5     Yes.

Q.6     How do I join this noble assemblage?

A.6     Apply to the Roster King, via the Prodigal Samurai. (See the 
section labelled "Petitions,")

Q.7     How is the LNH expanding beyond Usenet?

A.7     An electronic temple is being created on TIM for donations and 
worship of the LNH. It can be reached at 5440 on telnet.

Q.8     Who is the most powerful LNHer?

A.8     The Roster King, of course. He who controls the entries controls 
those who the entries belong to. Second is Faq Boy. He who controls 
information controls knowledge. He who controls knowledge, controls the 
people. (All under the Roster King's kind and benevolent guidance, of 
course.) After them is the spokesperson for the LNH, the Prodigal Samurai.

Q.9     What are the rules of the LNH?

A.9     There is one rule. Obey the Roster King.

Q.10    What sources of LNH information are there?                        

A.10    There is only the FAQ and the Roster. No other information is 

Q.11    What is/was the 2 1/2 Month Gap and Beige Noon?

A.11    This is when the rebel traitor, the Southern Shouter, tried to 
take control of the LNH from the Roster King. His reign lasted 2 1/2 
months before the Prodigal Samurai was able to wrest control back from 
the Southern Shouter.
        Beige Noon was the worst atrocity performed by the Southern 
Shouter during this time. He, with his fellow traitor, Slinking Lass, 
delivered the LNH into the hands of Fan.Dom of the Alt.Ra where they 
suffered the tortures of licensing. After being placed on the Villains 
Roster, the Roster King was able to change Fan.Dom's STATUS to dead, 
saving the LNH. (All praise the Roster King.)

Q.12    What is the NTB, and how does it relate to the LNH?

A.12    The Net.Travellers Brigade is the police force for the Roster 
King. They are the law when the Roster King is not available for his 
benevolent judgement. They are wise and dutiful. Trust them and obey them.

Q.13    What is the New Reader's Oath?

A.13    "I, of my own free will, accept the leadership of the Roster 
King, and will obey him in everything. All praise the Roster King."

Q.14    The LNH seems a bit crowded.  Why don't we split it into individual

A.14   No. If this happens, the Roster King would not be able to keep 
his benevolent eye on everyone. We need his leadership. All praise the 
Roster King.


[Extract ends]

Fan.Boy winced. This was definitely not a pleasant place to be. By now, 
they had reached the cells, and Fan.Boy had one last question.
        "Why are you answering my questions? Bad guys aren't supposed to."
        "We are not 'bad guys'. We're in charge, therefore, we're the 
heroes. I answer questions because that is what I do. Faq Boy, answerer
of faqs."
        The door slammed behind Fan.Boy with a sense of finality.


Faq Boy sighed as he entered the cafeteria. He really didn't need this 
sort of thing. He had enough trouble making sure people weren't sticking 
knives into his own back. Now he had another back to look out for. He 
had to keep Fan.boy safe as he was sure that Fan.Boy was his ticket out 
of here.
        He went over to the sideboard and cast his eyes over the range 
of sponges that Sponge Lad had created. Picking up a piece of raspberry 
and blue cheese sponge, he wandered over to a bench.
        Someone sat down beside Faq Boy and he looked up to see Pistol 
Whip holding a piece of cheese and onion sponge and sporting a large 
bruise on his right eye.
        Faq Boy smirked. "Been putting the moves on Self-Evident Sis 
        "Shut up," muttered Pistol Whip. "Wouldn't have hit me if the 
Roster King had let me keep my quick-draw powers. She wouldn't been so 
rude with a gun facing her."
        Criticism Dude was nearby, mopping the floor. "Moan, moan, moan. 
Don't you do anything else?"
        Pistol Whip turned on Criticism Dude angrily. "Oh yeah, at least 
I wasn't possessed by some silly demon and make fun of the Roster King 
all the time. The only reason you're still here is because the King 
finds you amusing. That, and the fact he needs a janitor after killing 
off Cleanliness Kid. At least I still got powers."
        "Oh. Have a bad love life and take it out on me. How original. 
What do you do next? Stomp out of the room in a huff?"
        Pistol Whip stood up, knocking back his seat. His fists were 
clenched at his side, ready to take a swing at Criticism Dude.
        "Leave it alone," interrupted Faq Boy. "You know how the Roster 
King likes his play thing. You don't want to end up like Cleanliness Kid, 
do you?"
        Pistol Whip slowly sat down again. Cleanliness Kid had been an 
example to them all. After saying "Cleanliness is next to Godliness" once 
to often, the Roster King had added to his ADD.NOTES entry: "Suffers 
from acid running through his veins" and everyone watched as Cleanliness 
Kid slowly and painfully melted through the floor. It was something that 
had personally given Faq Boy nightmares for the following year.
        Someone else walked into the cafeteria, and Faq Boy was happy to 
see that it was Polysyllabic Woman. Pistol Whip and Criticism Dude were 
also happy. One thing about life under the Roster King's rule, the 
female LNHers had to wear skimpy outfits.
        Polysyllabic Woman had long become used to this, and now managed 
to carry herself with pride, but the brief tug on her mini-mini skirt 
gave away her remaining uncomfortableness with the uniform.
        Going over to Faq Boy, Polysyllabic Women said "The Roster King 
demands your personality immediately in his accommodation on the 
concurrent ascending level."
        Faq Boy sighed. Most people would have said "*He* wants to see 
you upstairs in his room", but not Polysyllabic Women. Pushing himself 
away from the table, he got up and headed for the stairs.


Faq Boy knocked on the door and opened it when he heard "Enter." He went 
into the room and found the Roster King seated behind his desk, signing 
papers. The King waved him to a chair, in which Faq Boy waited silently 
for the King to finish whatever he was doing.
        The King put the piece of paper aside and looked up. "Tell me 
about yesterday afternoon."
        Faq boy managed to look puzzled. "What do you mean?'
        The King looked skeptical at Faq Boy's ignorance, but didn't 
question it. "I mean, how was Gallant Lad able to go to and 
rescue the people there? Did I not expressly forbid anyone to interfere
in the experiments I was carrying out there?"
        "Yes, sir." Faq Boy was squirming in his chair. He knew full 
well that Gallant Lad had gone, and that he, Faq Boy, had done nothing 
to stop him, and could only hope that the Roster King hadn't uncovered 
his part in the affair.
        "Well, what happened? How was he able to leave?"
        "Um, Suggestive Lad was on monitor duty at the time, but we 
experienced a power fluctuation at the time, during which time Gallant 
Lad left. We found out too late to stop him." Faq Boy hoped the sweat on 
his head wasn't visible. He pushed his glasses up to cover his 
        The Roster King sat back. "Interesting." Leaning forward again, 
he thumbed the intercom on his desk. "Have Suggestive Lad report here 
now. Oh, and bring in Gallant Lad as well."
        Faq Boy wondered what this was all about, but forbore to say 
        Only moments after Suggestive Lad turned up, Gallant Lad was 
brought in under guard. Gallant Lad had been beaten up, and his face 
bore markings of several bruises. Across his back, gashes in his 
trenchcoat offered testament to the whip lashings he had received. 
Suggestive Lad silently gloated at Gallant Lad's condiction.
        "Well, Suggestive Lad," said the Roster King. "As you can see, 
we have caught our traitor."
        "Indeed, sir." Faq Boy observed a mad gleam in Suggestive Lad's 
eyes, and felt less pity for whatever was to befall this man.
        "Perhaps, considering he caused the power failure while you were 
on duty, you might have some idea as to what we can do to... illustrate 
our displeasure."
        Suggestive Lad licked his lips. "I do have one idea, sir. 
Perhaps we could alter his teleportation ability, so that random 
molecules teleport at random times. He would just fly apart, piece by 
little piece."
        Faq Boy shut his eyes. He didn't really want to be a part of 
this. Unfortunately, the Roster King wasn't going to let him off that 
easily. "What do think of that, Faq Boy?" the King asked pointedly.
        Faq Boy opened his eyes and saw that the King was looking 
directly at him. "A very worthy torture, sir," he said in a quiet voice, 
unable to even glance in Gallant Lad's direction.
        "Indeed." The King reached into a pocket and took out a small 
piece of paper. Without even seeing it properly, Faq Boy knew it was 
Gallant Lad's roster entry. The King picked up a pen, and began writing.

        |                                               |
        | NAME: Gallant lad                             |
        | POWERS: Superhuman agility, short range       |
        |       telporter(max 20 ft), clings to walls.  |
        |       Some psychic abilities.                 |
        | ADD.NOTES: Sometimes black trenchcoat gets in |
        |       the way of movement.                    |
        |       Carries two swords w/ him.              |
        |       Has smattering of obscure knowledge.    |
        |       Can perform some skills, but not very   |
        |       well.                                   |
        |       Recently contracted a deadly disease,   |
        |       which causes his molecules to randomly  |
        |       teleport.                               |
        |                                               |

        Gallant Lad finally made a sound. "Noooo!" This quickly turned 
into a scream of anguish as parts of his body seemed to dissolve as the 
component molecules moved in random directions. Soon, nothing was left 
of him but a black trenchcoat which fluttered to the floor.
        Suggestive Lad grinned the whole way through. Faq Boy felt like 
he was going to throw up.
        "Now," said the Roster King, turning to Suggestive Lad. "What 
punishment shall you suffer to teach you the error of allowing mere 
power fluctuations to interrupt your duties."
        Suggestive Lad's eyes widened as he realised the import of the 
King's words. "No," he gasped, and vanished.
        The King clicked his tongue in irritation. "Now where's he got 
        Faq Boy rubbed his stomach, still nauseous. "He probably 
transported himself to another newsgroup."
        The King took out another piece of paper. "Silly boy. Hasn't he 
realised anything by now?" He peered at the paper and read aloud "'Power 
of suggestion. Ability to transport himself between newsgroups. Energy 
blasts'." He thought for a moment. "Right, those blasts go," he said, 
striking a line through the power description. He wrote for a moment. 
"Now. 'Ability to transport himself between newsgroups, but returns 
after a minute'. That should have the desired effect."
        Half a minute later, Suggestive Lad re-appeared, surprised. 
"Wha?" He concentrated in the King's direction. "Don't you feel like 
being kind to me?"
        The King laughed. "Have you forgotten? You can't affect me. Now, 
what punishment would be fitting..." He wrote for a moment on Suggestive 
Lad's roster entry. "Under ADD.NOTES, I have added 'Must have medication 
once every twenty four hours, or suggestion powers overwhelm mind and he 
becomes a mental retard'. And," the King glanced at his watch. "I do 
believe it has been several _weeks_ since your medication."
        Suggestive Lad's last normal expression was one of absolute 
terror before idiocy befell him, and he started drooling.
        Faq Boy looked away, deciding to visit the medbay for some 
Quik-eze before too long.
        The guards carried the shattered being of Suggestive Lad away.
        The Roster King lounged back in his chair. "You are dismissed... 
for now." As Faq Boy reached the door, he continued. "I want you to 
interrogate this 'Fan.Boy'. I want a full roster description."
        "Yes, sir." Faq Boy left, heading for the medbay.


Fan.Boy was bored. He had been stuck here for hours. He had caught up on 
his net.reading. He had been fed (at least, he assumed the asparagus 
sponge was meant to be food). He had even formed a theory as to what had 
        Somehow, like Particle Man, he was now bouncing through strange 
dimensions, where the LNH stood for values different to those he was 
used to.
        However, having done all this, there was now nothing to do 
except wait for the inevitable torture and interrogation. He couldn't 
even swap stories with other prisoners, the doors being to thick to talk 
        Thinking of this, the door moved. Fan.Boy jumped backwards in 
surprise as the door swung open and guards came through. He was grabbed 
and hauled through a passage way and then thrown into a room. The room 
had two chairs and he was roughly thrust into one. In the other chair was 
his opposite, Faq Boy. Although Fan.Boy studied his familiar with 
interest, the only real difference he could see was the costume. His 
other self wore no cape, but had a black body suit, with a white and 
green striped belt. In the center of his chest was a question mark 
surrounded by a red circle with a diagonal slash, meaning that there 
were no questions allowed here. On the left side of this was an "F", 
on the right was a "B".
        Faq Boy sighed and got out writing paper and a pen. "Right. 
let's get this over quickly shall we? I'm sure we've all got more 
important things to do. Name?"
        "You know my name," replied Fan.Boy. "Um, are you going to 
torture me?"
        "I'm sure we don't need that... unless you're into that sort of 
        "No, no, no. Not particularly," assured Fan.Boy quickly. "It's 
just that thats the way interrogations are supposed to go. You ask 
questions, then proceed to beat me up irrelevant of the answers."
        "Just answer the questions and there'll be no need for that sort 
of thing. Besides," Faq added, uncomfortable. "The Roster King will be 
able to provide far too much of that sort of thing for anyone's pleasure."
        "Pleasure? Look, I may be bisexual, but I'm not depraved."
        "I know that. We are supposed to be the same remember?"
        "Well, more or less." Fan.Boy frowned over something. "If you're 
the second in command why are you called Faq Boy?"
        "How do you mean?"
        "Why 'Boy'? Why not 'the Faq Man'?"
        Faq Boy grimaced. "It's the King's way of reminding me of my 
station. Happy? Now, what are your powers?"
        "Well, I can stun people with my ability to pronounce punctuation."
        Fan.Boy shrugged. "Like... @#$@ you, #%$#%%%."
        (Faq Boy blinked. "And what's that supposed to achieve?")
        (Fan.Boy gaped. "You aren't impressed by actually hearing the 
        (Faq Boy shook his head.)
        (Fan.Boy turned and looked at the guards. Following his gaze, 
Faq Boy saw them staring ahead, mouths hanging open. "Ah, I see," he 
        He wrote on the paper. "Anything else?"
        "I can read everything that's ever been posted on a"
        "Handy, I suppose," Faq Boy admitted as he wrote this down. 
"Anything else?"
        "Not as far as I know. What are your powers?"
        "Me? Well, I look after the FAQ, and know the answer to any 
commonly asked question."
        "Like: why has no-one ever overthrown the Roster King?" Faq Boy 
looked at Fan.Boy sharply. "I merely ask for the information," Fan.Boy 
said, smiling.
        "The Roster King has one very important line in his roster 
entry. 'Invulnerable to every LNHer.' Kind of puts a damper on things."
        Fan.Boy nodded his head in reluctant agreement.
        "Right. Now, any addition notes I should know of?"
        "Well, I'm a fan of every LNH story ever published. Kind of what 
gives me my name. Also, I know all the subplots and secrets that 
characters have. Seeing as how they're written down, it's easy to read 
        Faq Boy wrote this down. "Fair enough. Anything else?"
        "Well, I'm a WC."
        "Wissy? What's that?"
        Fan.Boy blinked. "A Writer-Character. Means I'm based on some 
part of my writer's personality."
        Faq Boy openly showed his puzzlement. "How do you mean, 'Writer'?"
        Fan.Boy gaped. "You don't know about 'Writers'?"
        Faq Boy shook his head.
        "They're the people that write the postings," Fan.Boy 
explained. "They're the ones that put us through these ridiculous 
stories. Some characters think that they control their very actions and 
emotions, but I don't believe it. As I see it, they control the 
situations, but they can't control us."
        Faq Boy listened carefully to all of this. "What are you talking 
        "Writers. They write these postings, and we live them. How do 
you think all these things happen. The Net and everything?"
        "They just are. It's a reality that we know and are quite happy 
to accept without needing to create some kind of religious being to 
explain it all."
        Fan.Boy shied away from that topic. There were too many channels 
taken up with religious discussions already, and he didn't want to be the 
one responsible for increasing it.
        Faq Boy finished writing up Fan.Boy's roster entry. "Is that it?"
        "I guess so."
        "Right then." Faq Boy motioned to the guards to take him away.
        "Hang on. Can you put me in a different cell?" asked Fan.Boy. 
"It's so boring by myself."
        Faq Boy nodded. "All right." He addressed the guards. "Take him 
to cell 16."
        The guards looked surprised. "Are you sure? That's the cell of-"
        "I'm quite aware of who's cell it is. And I'm not used to 
having my orders questioned!"
        "Yes, sir!"
        Fan.Boy was marched away.


Fan.Boy stumbled over the door-jam, and bere ly missed having his foot 
caught in the door as it slammed behind him. He straightened up and saw, 
true to his word, that Faq Boy had placed him in a cell with someone else.
        In the corner, quivering slightly, was an old man, wearing a 
wrinkled red spandex suit. Going over to him, Fan.Boy thought he saw 
some resemblance to someone in his universe, but was unable to place it 
        Fan.Boy crouched down beside the old man. "Hello?"
        The figure stirred slightly, showing that the old man was aware 
of him.
        "Hello. I'm Fan.Boy. Who are you?"
        The old man mumbled something, and rose slightly. "Mm. Yes, I 
had a name once. Mm. It was.. it was.. Yes, I remember now. It was 
Gumperson Lord."
        Fan.Boy no idea what the old man was talking about.
        "I am the living incarnation of Gumperson's Law..."
        "Er, what's that?"
        "The, er, probability of a given event, um, occurring is inversely 
p..p..proportional to its desirability."
        Fan.Boy suddenly clicked on who this person was an alt.self of. 
He had a feeling that, in whatever dimension Writers lived in, his 
Writer would have a lot of explaining to do.
        "What happened to you?" asked Fan.Boy.
        "Mm? Isn't it, mm, obvious. The last thing I wanted to happen 
to be was to be captured by the LNH. Therefore, mm, thanks to my own 
powers, I was captured immediately."
        "When did this happen?" How long had Gumperson Lord been trapped 
here, that he was now so old.
        "Ur, it was.. um.. five years ago."
        "Five years? Surely you didn't think you think take on the LNH 
at your age."
        "You fool!" snapped Gumperson Lord. "Do you think I want to be 
this old? Of course I don't. That's the bloody point, isn't it?!"
        Fan.Boy backed off. "All right. Don't get steamed."
        Gumperson Lord fell back, gasping a bit. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm 
just an old fool, babbling away. It's, um, been so long since I had 
anyone to talk to. Um, mm, you're not going anywhere, are you? You're 
stuck here like me, aren't you?"
        A plan had formed in Fan.Boy's mind by this stage, and this was 
just the line he had been hoping for. "No, of course not," he assured 
Gumperson Lord. "Not if you don't want me to."
        "No. I'd quite like someone to stay here. Give me someone to 
talk to."
        Of course, as he said this, the chance of Fan.Boy not staying 
here rose dramatically. The door swung open, with no-one outside, 
begging to be used as an escape by Fan.Boy.
        Taking his cue, Fan.Boy leapt through the door. "Wait, wait," he 
heard from behind him. "Don't go, mm. Stay here and talk to me." As he 
heard this, Fan.Boy knew that the one place he wouldn't end up coming 
back to was here.
        Fan.Boy walked quickly down the corridor, making sure no-one 
else was in sight. Luckily, no-one was.
        He opened the door at the end, and entered the gymnasium outside 
it. Thankfully, this LNHQ was built just like his one. He crossed to the 
stairs, and carefully made his way up.
        On the first floor, he peered into the lobby, but no-one was 
about. Taking his chance, he crept out of the stairwell door and made 
for the front door.
        Behind him he heard the ironic sound of clapping and suddenly 
knew how Princess Leia felt in Return of the Jedi.
        Turning slowly, he saw in the cafeteria doorway the Roster King, 
someone else who was dressed in a very ceremonial outfit, who also wore 
a sword at his side, and Faq Boy. Funnily enough, Faq Boy was being held 
by guards, one who had his hand over Faq Boy's mouth.
        "I was waiting for something like this," said the Roster King. 
"I think it's time to find out your combat abilities. The Prodigal 
Samurai here," he indicated the ceremonial figure beside him, "expressed 
a wish to kill you, and, call me whimsical here, I'm rather inclined to 
grant it. Don't worry though. Far be it to send me to your death 
unaided. Faq Boy here shall die with you."
        He clicked his fingers. "To the Peril Pit everyone."
        Guards grabbed Fan.Boy and, in a sense of deja vu, dragged him 


Elsewhere, in the normal reality we know of as our Looniverse, a poker 
game was in session, the Ultimate Ninja dealing.
        He quickly dealt out cards to everyone, then looked at Parking 
Karma Kid for his call.
        PKK moved his hand towards his chips, then paused. "Don't you 
think," he said slowly, "that we're missing someone? Someone vital to 
our group, and someone whose very essence makes us stronger?"
        "Yeah," agreed Bandwagon Boy. "We all miss Decibel Dude."
	"Well," said Cheesecake Eater Lad. "More like Samantha Spoon."
	The men nodded. True, so true. Oh, well, there was always repeats 
of _Flying High_.


The Peril Pit was subtly different from the Peril Room Fan.Boy knew. 
Instead of hi-tech machinery and state-of-the-art projectors and safety 
nets, the Peril Pit was a very large hole in the ground, filled with 
rubble, spikes, and pitfalls.
        Fan.Boy was thrown into the pit, but managed to land without any 
major damage. Faq Boy was also thrown in, and also escape without harm. 
No sense in taking away any of the Prodigal Samurai's fun.
        Above them, the Roster King sat in a large ornate chair. Around 
him were gathered several LNHers, some of whom Fan.Boy recognised as 
Master Blaster, Sarcastic Lad and aLLiterative Lass. Something told him 
that these people weren't the ones he knew and adored. Perhaps it was 
the jeers, perhaps it was the stone throwing, or maybe it was the 
subtle hand gestures, but something told him.
        "I have suspected you for a long time, Faq Boy," said the Roster 
King. "I know that you were responsible for Stretchable Dude living for 
the extra week, even though he helped that wretched mutant leopard girl 
to escape, and this more recent incident. When Fan.Boy 
arrived, I thought I would wait for you to help him escape, then I could 
kill two birds with one stone." He motioned to he Prodigal Samurai, who 
flipped into the Peril Pit and landed lightly. "Let your final duty 
        "Wait," called Faq Boy. "What about all the years I have 
faithfully served you? Who will look after the FAQ?"
        "That is no longer your concerned." The Roster King took out 
something that Faq Boy instantly knew was his own entry. The King brought 
out a pen and made two slashing lines through the entry, then let the 
paper go. Faq Boy watched as it, his career, and even his life, 
fluttered down onto the broken floor beneath him.
        This must have been a signal, as Fan.boy saw the Prodigal 
Samurai take an impressive stance, sword drawn and held out in front of 
        Fan.Boy turned to Faq Boy. "Come on. Together, we could take him 
down." However, Faq Boy was still looking at his entry, caught in a 
        Giving up on his alt.self, Fan.Boy turned, drawing breath to 
pronounce some devastating punctuation. Before he could say anything, the 
Prodigal Samurai's foot landed on his throat, causing Fan.Boy to collapse, 
grasping at his injured larynx.
        Although he fell backwards, the Samurai's sword still cut into
his stomach, opening it, and allowing his intestines to escape. Fan.Boy 
crumpled to the ground, his insides strewn about him, permanently out of 
the fight even through he was still alive. Just.
        Faq Boy finally turned away from his entry to find the Samurai 
facing him. "I had hoped he would be more of a challenge," said the 
Samurai, in a measured tone. "Will you also disappoint me?"
        Faq Boy shook his head,but whether it was to deny the Samurai's 
statement, or to clear his head, no-one was certain. He drew the FAQ 
from someplace, and also brought out a pen. Flipping to the question 
about who was the greatest LNHer, he made to bring up the pen to change 
it, but found himself staring blankly at the stump of an arm he now had.
        He looked up, confused, and saw the Samurai shaking his head. 
"No," said the Samurai. "That is not the true way." He swished his sword 
about, causing Faq Boy to fall back, or be impaled.
        As Faq Boy retreated, he tripped and fell on the rubble, 
Tumbling backwards, a short spike pierced his the back of his leg just 
above this knee. Faq Boy screamed as pain shot through him.
        The Prodigal Samurai looked at the damage he had caused without 
even the slightest bit of effort. He glanced upwards at the crowd. The 
LNHers were booing the poor performance, and even the Roster King looked 
disappointed. "Finish them off," he commanded.
        The Prodigal Samurai nodded and took a step backwards. "I had 
asked for this battle hoping to find strength and force. Fan,Boy was 
right. Together, you would have taken me. Now, not even a Ronin would 
pity your plight."
        The Samurai took a step back and raised his sword. Pink swirl 
whirled around him, and a little eddy encircled the bottom of his sword 
scabbard. Faq Boy had seen this before, but didn't understand the 
significance. Fan.Boy did understand, but was unable to more than groan.
        As the eddy played around the bottom of the scabbard, it glowed
and protective little guards popped out, defining a handle. Reaching 
down, the Samurai gasped the hilt and drew another, glowing, sword from 
the bottom of the scabbard.
        Crossing the two swords in front of his face, causing power to 
crackle around them, the Samurai brought them down to his feet, then 
drew them up in wide arcs, leaving behind paths of light.
        "It's whammy time!" cried the Samurai, as flung his swords 
forward. The paths of light focused into beams, one flying towards each 
of the defeated opponents.
        Both Fan.Boy and Faq Boy lit up from head to crotch, then they 
exploded. Blood and gore splattered onto the landscape. Some of the 
LNHers above were forced to look away, but the Prodigal Samurai merely 
twirled his swords and posed. "Ta-dah!"
        Splash page: Focus is on a piece of paper, Faq Boy's entry. To 
the left can be seen a pool of blood, with a finger just visible.

                |\                                       /|     
                | N\ME: Faq Boy                        /  |
                | POW\RS:Controls the FAQ, and throug/ it |
                |      \controls the knowledge peop/e     |
                |       k\ow, and therefore, cont/ls the  |
                |       peo\le.                /          |
                |       Also, \as the ability/to know the |
                |       answer \o the most /requently     |
                |       asked que\tions. /                |
                | ADD.NOTES:Is keep\r o/ the LNH FAQ.     |
                |       Is the secondXmost powerful       |
                |       LNHer, afte/ th\ Roster King.     |
                |       Has an al/.self c\lled Fan.Boy.   |
                |       Was dis/overed to b\ a traitor    |
                |       by Pi/tol Whip, who h\s taken     |
                |       ove/ as keeper of the F\Q.        |
                |       I/ to be executed by the \        |
                |      /Prodigal Samurai.          \      |
                |    /                               \    |
                |  /Nightmare."                        \  |
                |/ by Jamas Enright                      \|

NEXT ISSUE: What? Is it over already? Is it really that easy to kill a 
fan? Will there be a Fan.Boy #6? (well, duh)

Find out in Fan.Boy #6: "Return of a non-Legend."


Poker scene cameoed with permission.

All the others belong to me (although I may disown this fact if 

Some may have noticed that the LNHers above bear a striking resemblance 
to certain members of the real Legion of Net.Heroes. Below is a chart 
for the mentally deficient to show who was who. As for who owns the real 
LNHers, well, Martin posts the Roster fairly often, read that.... if you 
can trust it... :)

| My LNHer             | Real LNHer                     |
| The Roster King      | Master Roster Man/List Lad     |
| Faq Boy              | Fan.Boy                        |
| The Prodigal Samurai | The Ultimate Ninja             |
| Trumpet Man          | Guitar Man                     |
| Doctor Trampler      | Doctor Stomper                 |
| Souther Shouter      | Rebel Yell (Southern Sentinel) |
| Slinking Lass        | Lurking Girl                   |
| Sponge Lad           | Cheesecake Eater Lad           |
| Pistol Whip          | Master Blaster                 |
| Self-Evident Sis     | Sister State-the-Obvious       |
| Criticism Dude       | Sarcastic Lad                  |
| Cleanliness Kid      | Squeaky Clean                  |
| Polysyllabic Woman   | aLLiterative Lass              |
| Suggestive Lad       | Deja Dude                      |
| Gallant Lad          | Kid Chivalry                   |
| Stretchable Dude     | Pliable Lad                    |
| Gumperson Lord       | Acton Lord                     |

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