Blue Light Productions presents

    				By Ben Rawluk
    			A Legion of Net.Heroes title
    [Cover - The raging torrents of the timestream, a wave of green buffering
    someone through time.]
LNHQ is, obviously, a sprawling complex, with several floors above ground,
and an even greater number of floors *below* ground. It has to be, in order
to support the cast of literally thousands, characters who mostly go unused.
Amidst LNHQ's layout, is a simple room. Originally it had been a
broom-closet, but Browsing Boy had managed to acquire a round poker table,
and the closet was converted into a meeting room for the Net.Titans, one of
the many subgroups lurking within the LNH rosters.
And on that pleasant day, the four active members of the Net.Titans sat
around the poker table. Kid Quickclick was closest to the door. He was the
newest member, and felt a bit out of his element. While he listened, he
twiddled his fingers at mach 1. 
Research Lass was speaking. After being interrupting by the sonic boom of
Kid Quickclick's finger shifting past the speed of sound, she continued, in
earnest. "As you all know, we've just lost three members, but gained a new
one." heads nodded up and down. "I was, reflecting, on how
this group needs to grow." more nodding. "I think the Net.Titans should move
to a new city, and be that city's net.hero group."
"I don't know," Linguist Lass, sitting opposite Research Lass, responded,
"What are your reasons?"
"Well, I think its time for a change of pace and scene. I think, if we
'spread the wealth around', so to speak, maybe it'll make things better."
Research Lass looked around the table, and then added, "Plus, the fact that
Doc Stomper DIDN'T consult us about Quickclick..."
"It's not MY fault!" Kid Quickclick yelped. "And I joined the LNH to hang
around with the -LNH-...."
"*sigh* Look. All in favour of leaving Net.Ropolis." Browsing Boy and
Linguist Lass held up their hands, and Quickclick gave in and raised his
hand as well.
", next. Where do we go?"
"Um...well..." Kid Quickclick mumbled.
"What about Alt.On City?" Linguist Lass offered. "It's pretty much
net.heroless...if we go there, we certainly wouldn't have problems, I'm sure."
Kid Quickclick raised his hand. "Um...I just got here. And you're saying I
should move -out- again to yet -another- city??" 
Research Lass stared at the young speedster. "Look. You were shoved in with
us against our will. As a Net.Titan, you have to come, no ifs, ands, or
buts. Unless you'd like to resign. Clear?"
"Um....yes, ma'am."
"Good." Research Lass cleared her throut. "Now then. Any other suggestions
for cities?"
"Ok. Alt.On City. Discussion." 
"Well, I can see about leasing a warehouse. I heard a lot of them are having
the upper floors converted into lofts. If we convert the lower floors to a
hangar bay, and a communications room, as well as some storage..." Browsing
Boy offered.
"Ok, that sounds good. Linguist Lass, see about scrounging equipment we'll
need together in crates, and get some crates for own personal stuff...also
get grav carriers for the crates. Browsing Boy, check on the warehouses.
I'll -speak- with Stomper. Quickclick...*sigh*...oh,  do whatever you want."
Amongst the churning forces of the timestream, a single figure, emanated a
bizarre particle field, blasted across reality, backwards, towards the year
Brian Clearly, alias Kid Quickclick paced around his quarters. Being a
net.ahuman superspeedster, this caused pacing for him to be unique; it would
appear to others that he was existing simultaneously in several spots at
once. This could be explained as simply a matter of him moving from one
point to the next fast enough to change position before the light could
reach your eye. 
He glanced at his watch. Browsing Boy was calling Alt.On City to see about
getting ahold of a warehouse that they could use as a headquarters. Research
Lass was speaking with Doc Stomper about the change. Linguist Lass was
seeing to a list of equipment they'd need. And he was in his quarters. Just
sitting there, pacing. What he needed was a nice run.
He breathed in, moved forward, and in an instant was gone.
Research Lass huffed, brushing the hair out of her face. She stared at
Stomper from across the table, and leaned forward. "We're leaving." She
sounded, carefully making the statement clear and concise.
Doctor Vincent Stomper looked at back at her. "What do you mean, 'We're
"We're leaving. All *sigh* four of us. To Alt.On City."
"Why? Because we need to stretch. Because you shoved someone onto our team
without our permission, ...though we are taking him with us." Research Lass
cleared her throat. "Because we need to be separate from the LNH."
Browsing Boy set the phone down, and smiled. "What do you know." He got up,
and glanced around. He decided he should go talk with Kid Quickclick, try
make him feel a bit better about what happened. Striding out of the
Communications Room, he tapped his utility-belt.thingee's pocket, to check
if the small box within was still there.
Linguist Lass scratched her head, pushing the pile of boxes, suspended by a 
grav-field, forward, down the various corridors of LNHQ. She sighed,
heavily. It had taken an hour of arguing with Captain his guise as
LNH_Bldr, and Captain Clean-Up to get the crates and grav-carriers. Her
com.thingee beeped enthusiastically, and Linguist Lass activated it. 
"Anne...I'm gonna try to find Kid Quickclick...I think Research Lass was too
hard on him, don't you?" Browsing Boy's voice whispered over the
com.thingee's aud-link.
"Yeah, I guess. Look, while you do that, I better scoot over to Stomper's
lab and see about defusing the situation before Resa says something she says
"MEN!" Research Lass appeared, stomping down the corridor, from the
direction of Stomper's Lab. She muttered, "I am NOT taking that Speed-Feeb
with us...." as she passed Linguist Lass and the crates. She added, "NOT in
a million YEARS!" before vanishing down the corridor.
Linguist Lass stood in the corridor, looking in the direction of Research
Lass's quick exit. "Oh dear."
Alex Marini, alias Browsing Boy, has a talent for speed-reading. In fact, it
his power; he had always been able to read at speeds which would force most
people into a coma. As Browsing Boy glanced out into the street in front of
LNHQ, he realized his power was more than just words going into his brain was speed. He could perceive reality with a heightened sense of
Browsing Boy saw Kid Quickclick run. KQC was running fast enough that he
wouldn't have been seen by most, but BB could see him clearly. He called
out. "Hey, Kid!" An instant later, KQC stood before him.
"What the hell do you want?!" Kid Quickclick growled. "Come to chew me out
like Research Lass?!" 
" a" Browsing Boy sighed. "Look, I wanted to apologize for
her behaviour. We're all going through a lot, and when Doc Stomper just
blatantly overstepped his bounds....wellllllll....."
"I...I guess I understand." KQC cleared his throat. "Maybe I should go talk
to her?"
"Good idea...It couldn't hurt."
"Get. Out. of. My. SIGHT!" Research Lass spouted at Kid Quickclick, as he
stood before her in the Cafeteria. The LNHers within earshot looked over,
startled by the display.
The speedster was taken aback. "But...But..."
Research Lass leaned forward. "You have the nerve to come in here and try to
'smooth things over'?? It isn't going to work. I've changed my mind. You
aren't coming with the Net.Titans."
"Don't you think that's a little drastic, Resa?" Browsing Boy and Linguist
Lass stood in the doorway of the Cafeteria. The few LNHers who were in the
Cafeteria looked over again, a bit confused by the melodrama playing out.
"You shouldn't condemn him for Stomper's sins."
"Fine. Just all of you leave me alone!" Resa growled, and used her
flight-ring.thingee to fly out of the Cafeteria, above the Net.Titans' heads.
"Oh man...I think I screwed up again." Kid Quickclick commented.
"No...I'll go talk to her..." Linguist Lass ran out of the Cafeteria. 
LNH_Bldr looked up as Research Lass stormed by. He had seen her earlier, and
wondered if she was permanently P.O.ed. He glanced back at the exit he was
finishing off to a secondary lab that he had just built, and dropped his
Exit-@opener. He tap the small keyboard linked to his wrist, and activated a
costume macro. An instant later, he was re@named, and re@desced, wearing the
costume of Captain MUSH. He @teleported away, hoping to get a chance to talk
to Resa....maybe it wasn't his place, but he hoped to make her feel better.
The Cafeteria was in its usual condition. Except for the small mess created
by Resa dropping her food on the floor in anger, things were back to normal.
Most of the LNHers in the Cafeteria were kind of confused by the earlier
occurence. Cheesecake-Eater Lad was yelling at no one in particular,
obviously annoyed at the argument occurring in HIS cafeteria. Browsing Boy
looked across the table at Kid Quickclick. "It isn't your fault, Kid." he
smiled meekly. "Resa was hit particularly hard by Kid Mysticism's death." BB
shifted in his chair. "And I get the feeling Stomper did something else,
when he saw her..."
Doctor Vincent Stomper smiled, looking into the mirror. He was drawn thinner
than usual. He massaged his chin, and smiled again, though his mouth seemed
to be contorted into an obviously evil grin. He had done is job; he had
succeeded in driving a stake between the LNH and the Net.Titans...a stake
which, thankfully, would no doubt start a flamewar. And sides would be taken...
He looked up, and his chin lengthened. He skin became a dark crimson, ears
became pointed, and his features flowed, and suddenly, an alien being in a
strange bodysuit stood in Stomper's place. He shucked the labcoat, and
smiled into the mirror. "Ahhhhhhhh....soon the Net.Titans will experience
the true BITE of the Moderian Morph-Master!" 
The Moderian tapped on a nearby computer console, and called up the master
roster file. Looking through it, he carefully selected a file. As he read
it, his features once again flowed, eventually stabilising as a those of a
certain slightly portly protector, though quite a bit thinner than the original.
"He was just so...rude...." Resa looked at Linguist Lass, carefully. "Once
he found out, he started making jokes and wisecracking." She rubbed her
forehead. "Look...apologize to Kid Quickclick for me...maybe he isn't so
bad....we'll see..."
Linguist Lass nodded. "I will...but that doesn't sound like Vincent to me."
Resa shrugged. "Actually, he was thinner than he usually is." She added, "A
lot thinner."
"Thinner? Maybe he just went on a diet?"
"When was the last time a Looniversal diet actually worked?!" 
"Good point."
Next Issue: The Net.Titans wave a final farewell to LNHQ as the three
prophets warn of impending doom....not to mention that, like, there's an
impostor running around...Plus, a milestone in the lives of Browsing Boy and
Linguist Lass!
Our Cast
Research Lass, Captain MUSH/LNH_Bldr, and Kid Quickclick are owned by me.
Browsing Boy is reserved as a Net.Titan.
Linguist Lass was created by Martin Phipps *sniff*, but is reserved as a
Doctor Stomper and Cheesecake-Eater Lad are public domain.
The Moderian Morph-Master *snicker* is owned by me.
All comments/suggestions/reviews are welcomed and appreciated. :)
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