LNH Triple Play #8
---' `---' `---' `--- //////////|||||||||||||||\\\\\\\\\ ---' `---' `---' `---
Pseudo-Random House |////////||||||LLLLLLL||||||\\\\\\\| THE FLAME WARS III
COMIX >//////.... ( ) ....\\\\\< PART 1!
___ ___ ___ ___|.... guest- starring ....|___ ___ ___ ___
///`v'///`v'///`v'. CONTRAPTION MAN .`v'\\\`v'\\\`v'\\\\\
///////////... || | ...\\\\\\\\\\\\
///////.. ((_______) ..\\\\\\\\
////_______ `------' _______\\\\
///( ) ____ _______ ( )\\\
/// | | | | _ \ and introducing\
SARCASTIC LAD _______ | | | |_) ) THE GOOD KID
|| | | _ \ | | | ===' ____ || |
((_______) | |_) ) `====' `===' | | ((_______)
`------' | \ .. | | `------'
__________ `===='`===' .' `. | \ /~~~~~|
| | : (LNH) : `====== | ,==='
| | `. .' | `~~|
`=== ===' _______ ` ..' ____ ____ | ,=='
`==' | _ \ ____ ____ \ \ / / `======
| |_) ) | | / \ \ `' /
| ===' | | / /\ \ `= ='
`===' | \ | `' | `=='
`====== `==='`==='
... ...
... _______ ...
.. | | ..
| #8 |
Summer 95
\ /
`v'
{Cover is a black-and-white reproduction of Retcon Hour Omega
with a stark, colorized Contraption Man superimposed on the front. He
is hanging his head in great sorrow. Framing the scene are licking flames.
The flaming "Flame Wars III, part 1" logo burns in the bottom corner}
************************************************************************
"All Things Old Are Young Again"
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The Drizzt's Defense Files, that omipresent omnibus of omnivorous
omniscience, defines "Tight Flight" as:
The late 20th century social phenomenon of wealthy and middle-
class taxpayers fleeing cities with Super-HQs to avoid the high
incidence of cosmic conquerors, property damamge, and
mystical phenomenon. To retain the good will of tax-depleted
city planners, most super-teams agreed to answer all calls for
help from their host city, even the most mundane.
See also Net.ropolis, Sig.ago, Golden Man
Sarcastic Lad landed the flight thingie and sighed. He knew the
reason the Legion responded to any and all calls for help in
Net.ropolis. No wonder Golden Man was Net.ropolis' favorite -- he never
had storylines to service, so he spent time saving cats, putting out
fires, making the trains run on time and generally excelling at
community service. Plus he was photogenic.
"This is what I have become?" groaned Sarcastic Lad. "A poor
man's Golden Man? Well, better get on the stick. Who knows what
cataclysmic schemes the Lunch Money Gang will be up to next." Sarc
turned off the Flight Thingie and moped out into the RACME Foods parking
lot. A frantic adolescent had phoned the LNHHQ, hysterical over a gang
of toughs that were stealing shopping bagger tips in a grocery store
parking lot. "Here I come to save the day-ay," he warbled, hopelessly
off-key and without a shred of feeling.
At the far end of the parking lot, a group of five twenty-
something slackers shoved a pimply bagger aside. They wheeled the
groceries to a car, then intimidated the frightened housewife into
giving an over-generous tip. Sarcastic Lad screwed his face into mock
sobbing. "Alt.lactus take me away! Well I guess..."
Before he could act, a blur of pale green, yellow and scarlet
bounded over a nearby mini-van. "That's enough of that, buger-heads!"
Sarcastic Lad mouthed "buger-heads" as the youthful hero bounced,
cavorted, kicked, punched and flung like a Steve Ditko bad dream. One
tough sailed head over harness, colliding with another gang member.
Sarc leaned on a parked station wagon, bemused. "Seems to be able
to handle himself. Good Lord, I'm being replaced by a schoolboy with no
fashion sense. At least he's not..."
The kid leapt in the air to avoid a concerted rush at him, causing
the other three to crash into each other beneath him. "Don't fight
guys, there's plenty of me to go around."
"...doing snappy patter."
The young hero crashed down on all their heads, knocking them
down. The first two recovered, growled and ran at him. The kid bounded
into the recently emptied shopping cart, aiming it at the two.
"And they say nobody delivers anymore...eeps." Unexpectedly, the
cart pitched sideways, spilling the youth to the ground. The two thugs
grinned evilly, as if they had no parents or decent upbringing, and
advanced. Sarc yawned and grabbed them from behind.
"Nighty-night Vanilla Ice." He cracked their heads together, then
dropped them. The housewife had bent to help her youthful rescuer.
"Here y'go ma'am. You should never tip more than a dollar. It
just encourages this kind of thing..."
"Oh, what a Good Boy. Thank you." With barely a glance at Sarc,
she kissed the top of his mask then left.
Sarc addressed her receding taillights. "No ma'am please, you're
embarrassing yourself. Sexual favors are strictly against..."
"Thanks for the assist mister, geez you're Sarcastic Lad aintcha?"
"No, Sarcastic Lad is the man that looks like me -- with a life.
And you oughtta be ashamed of such an amateurish mistake. Like a
shopping cart is _capable_ of rolling straight."
"C'mon admit it -- I did ok. These guys were way older and I
dropped 'em! Cool huh? Maybe you could recommend me so I could join
the LNH? That's like a dream of mine y'know."
"I'd'a never guessed," deadpanned Sarcastic Lad. "What's your
name kid?"
"Uh, gee, I don't really have one. Everyone calls me a Good Kid,
so I guess that's it. The Good Kid."
"What're you kidding? 'Beware the vengeance of...The Good Kid?'
'They murdered nuns, but now they must face...the Good Kid?' 'Tremble
evildoers, the wrath of ...The Good Kid.' "
"Ok, ok I get the message..."
"I'll sponsor you kid, but you gotta do your part. Get a theme.
How about this: 'Chismbob Boy -- when Evil needs accounting.' "
"That'll get me in?" asked the youth hopefully.
"Oh definitely. How do you think Parking Karma Kid got his start?
It's all in the theme."
"Great, thanks! I'll apply today!"
"Make sure you tell 'em Sarcastic Lad sent you."
=============== ================
The bum rubbed his eyes in annoyance. He didn't need to get up
until the sun rose above the warehouse behind him. Lunchtime in the
business district was the best time to panhandle. He glanced around
trying to determine what had woke him up.
He narrowed it down to the unconscious man with futuristic helmet
and gun at his feet.
Though the shimmering of the wall behind him that hurt his eyes to
look out was not out of the question. Especially with the obnoxious
grinding noise it produced.
The bum hadn't made his way in Net.ropolis this long without
recognizing the stamp of super-heroic affairs. He did the rational
thing. He ran.
But he didn't run far. After all, the other thing the bum had
learned was not to look a gift horse in the mouth. From around the
corner, the bum watched the prostrate form. Kid Kirby, Golden Man, and
even Ultimate Ninja failed to show up. The bum eyed the gear
speculatively. He knew a pawn shop on the shady side of town that paid
well for super-hero equipment, no questions asked.
The bum crept up on the helmeted man who was just stirring. He
helped him roll over. The man's face was hidden by a faceplate that
covered everything but his chin. The bum winced at the coruscating
distortion the man had apparently fallen through.
"Wh-what year is this?" the helmeted man rasped.
"What year? Are you kidding?"
"No! What year....?"
"It's 1995."
"Then I have travelled back in time...." The man fell to a fit of
coughing, which took his eyes off his benefactor.
The bum's eyes had glazed over. His mouth worked silently and his
hands clenched . From blank confusion, the bum's face slowly resolved
to a mask of terror.
"Time Travellers? Time Travellers?!? nonononoNoNoNoNONONONO!"
The bum's grubby hands closed convulsively around the traveller's
neck. The sudden motion jarred the large, futuristic cannon aside,
which would have been the only line of defense. Weakened by his
journey, the man put up little resistance to the bum's suddenly powerful
grip.
With teeth clenched, the bum exerted for a full minute after the
man's struggling ceased. "No more time travellers. You're just the
first. If I don't kill them all, they'll all die...."
=============== ================
Chismbob Boy strode proudly into the LNH lobby. "I'm here to be a
Legionnaire!" he announced proudly. Lester the receptionist looked up
blandly.
"Uh huh. Isn't this a school day?"
"Evil knows no tardy bell."
"Alllllllright. what's your name, son?"
"I am Chismbob Boy -- when Evil needs accounting!"
Lester sucked his teeth, staring at the dramatic pose the skinny
adolescent had assumed. He pressed the intercom. "Master Blaster, Frat
Boy, Incredible-Man-With-No-Life to the lobby please."
"Are they going to guide me in? Kewl!"
The summoned Net.Heroes burst into the lobby. Lester gestured a
thumb at the garish hero-wannabe.
"Ah! Lookout guys. It's Continuity Champ's Tailor Jr.!" quipped
Master Blaster.
"I'm, ah, Chismbob Boy. Sarcastic Lad sent me to join up."
The three heroes looked to each other. "Chismbob Boy? Ah
hahahahah!" They broke out into laughter so intense tears were flying.
"Oh man, Sarc has the best one yet!" Frat Boy said between
guffaws. "That's better than Lawn-Flamingo Lass you sent in last week,
MB."
Incredible-Man-With-No-Life started waggling his fingers. "The
answer is...10 to life!"
"Sorry Clueless Master, it adds up to jail for you!"
"Beware, these fingers are weapons of math fu!" The three were
hugging themselves in hysterics.
Chismbob Boy looked helplessly to Lester, who avoided his gaze.
Contraption Man entered the lobby, seeing the hysterical heroes,
Lester looking guilty and the mystified Chismbob Boy.
"What's going on here?"
Frat Boy said, "Divide and conquer, that's the answer," sparking
another round of laughter. Contraption Man looked sternly to the
receptionist.
"Are these guys running the 'Silly Wannabe Name of the Month' Pool
again?" Lester nodded helplessly. "I see."
The youth looked up. "Mr. Contraption Man? I don't understand.
Sarcastic Lad said I should come by and apply."
CM looked at the youth. "What are your powers, son?"
"Well, I don't really have any except..."
"I'm sorry -- we really have to insist our minors have bona fide
offensive or defensive super powers. Child protection laws and all."
"Oh." The former Chismbob Boy looked crestfallen.
"Look, when you're older come up with a better name and gimmick
and try again. Ok?" The normally polite youth turned without a word
and shuffled out. He sighed heavily at the door.
=============== ===============
Dr. Stomper fiddled with the dials with a wrinkled brow.
Contraption Man walked in on him like that. "Doc? Something up?"
"Oh hi Contraption Man. I'm not sure. These Chronomoters are
going gaga, almost like they did a year ago during..." The Doctor's
voice trailed off as he darted a nervous glance at Contraption Man.
"Retcon Hour?" the Cobbler Supreme asked gently.
"Well, yes."
"You don't need to walk on eggs like this..."
"I don't really know how to talk to you about that. In any case,
it is suspect that it occurred a year ago. But there are subtle
differences. For instance this appears localized rather than global.
In fact I might be able to determine where...CM would you mind calling a
meeting? This is something the Legion should probably deal with."
=============== ===============
"Mr. Sarcastic Lad? They said I should wait until I grew up some.
And some of them, they laughed at me."
Sarc feigned shock. "They laughed? The cads. You have to
forgive them -- some of our newer members have hopelessly dark origins.
We can't all be Golden Man." Thank heaven, he muttered to himself.
"What it probably was was just the name. 'Boy' just doesn't have the
ring it used to in Boy Lad's day. Why don't you go back as, say, Clog
Dance Kid. There's a winner if I ever heard one."
"Clog Dance Kid?" asked the Good Kid hopefully.
"That'll win it, I mean get you in for sure."
=============== ===============
Ultimate Ninja steepled his fingers at the bridge of his nose.
Innovative Offense Boy, Deductive Logic Man, Multi-Tasking Man,
Contraption Man and Dr. Stomper met in the LNH War Room. The master of
Comic book Ninjitsu broke the silence.
"So I'm to understand we are having time troubles. Again."
"Some sort of temporal anomaly," corrected Dr. Stomper. "It's
very localized. In fact I've pin-pointed it to the abandoned warehouse
district." [Apologies to Radioactive Man, but that _is_ where he
pinpointed it. Really!] "The only wrinkle is that this is almost one
year to the day that wReamicus Maximus was defeated during Retcon Hour."
"I see," said the ninja. "Very well. Before we alert the entire
LNH, let's go investigate...are you listening?" The last was addressed
to Innovative-Offense Boy and Deductive Logic Man who had been
whispering to each other.
Ferris flushed, removed his bowler and cleared his throat. "We're
listening UN. It's just that, maybe we _all_ shouldn't go."
"What do you mean?"
"Well this probably doesn't have anything to do with Retcon Hour.
But on the off chance it does, we probably shouldn't risk..." Ferris
glanced apologetically to Contraption Man. I-O Boy finished the
sentence.
"We shouldn't !@#&^#in' have the #@$#@ !@^@ villain of that piece
in our #$!^&*!@in' party."
Contraption Man flushed angrily, but held his tongue. Ultimate
Ninja stroked his chin. "Yes, I see. That's a good point. I'm sorry
CM, your Retconning was tied up with the Time Crapper's meddlings.
There's no sense taking any chances that this isn't him trying to re-
Retcon you. The rest of you to the Flight Thingies."
The heroes filed out looking sympathetically to Contraption Man.
There but for authorial whim could have gone they.
UN leaned close. "I hope you understand, CM. I trust you
implicitly, but time has twisted you in the past. It's for your
protection."
"I understand," the Gadgeteering Guru said through clenched teeth.
"Just give me a holler if you need help."
=============== ===============
"Bwah-ha-ha! Clog Dance Kid?" Master Blaster massaged his
temples in glee.
Frat Boy choked out, "Beware the Tapping Terror!"
Incredible-Man-With-No-Life chuckled, "Shuffle Hop Kick, Shuffle
Hop Punch, Kick-Kick-Gouge 2-3..."
Clog Dance Kid's lower lip fluttered and he ran from the LNH
Lobby.
"Dantherth are tho temper_men_tal," lisped MB. "Oh man, Sarc is
running away with this month's pool. I think that was even the same
kid!"
"Y'know guys, we might have hurt his feelings."
"Hey, I'd rather cut my eye out than hurt anyone's feelings." The
three looked to IMWNL. "Wooden Shoe?"
After a long pause they all burst into tearful laughter.
=============== ===============
The flight.thingee touched down in the docks district as the
morning sun revealed it in all its seediness. The Legionnaires burst
from the thingee in combat poses. Dr. Stomper wielded a hand-held
detector of some sort.
"This way!" he blurted, then started off at a run. Ultimate
Ninja, Innovative-Offense Boy, Deductive Logic Man, and Multi-Tasking
Man followed, making the typist wish the party consisted of Curly, Shokk
and Fuzzy.
Dr. Stomper abruptly came to a halt. "Wait the signal's fading,
fading....gone. But it was right there." He pointed at a warehouse
wall that a last bit of shimmering could be seen settling out.
"So (@#&@in' help me if Jean-Claude Van *!@#$^!$@in' Damme comes
outta there..." grumbled I-O Boy.
"Hey! He said Damn without being charactered out," complained
Multi-Tasking Man.
"Context Loophole, all the rage," said Dr. Stomper backhandedly,
his eyes still on the detector. "He can say 'bitch' if he's in a
veterinarians' office too."
I-O Boy's eyes widened in a hopeful grin. "Oh man, I've gotta
*!%^@in' get on a case involving Peter ($#!@ !@*#(&% Falk."
"What have you got Dr. Stomper," asked Ultimate Ninja, determined
to get back on subject.
"It's gone now. The only reason I can think of for such a small
disturbance, both spatially and temporally, is as a portal of some
kind."
Ferris caught Dr. Stomper's drift. "Like someone time travelled!
Perhaps the Time Crapper..."
"No, I think his TURDIS would register even without actively time
slipping. This is some Time Traveller we haven't encountered before."
Suddenly Multi-Tasking Man smacked his forehead. "Cripes! I
can't believe I forgot! This happened a few months ago! I investigated
by myself and found some collection of gear. I couldn't make head or
tail of it so I put it in the sub-sub-sub-basement."
"You forgot?"
"Hey, you try managing 8-10 tasks 24 hours a day 7 days a week.
Something is bound to fall through the cracks."
"I believe this 'gear' will bear further investigation," came UN's
dry voice. "In the mean time there's little else for us to do but wait
on the results of your experiments Dr. Stomper. And monitor the Trouble
Alert." This last was delivered in a hiss to a gulping M-TM.
Innovative Offense Boy spoke out. "(#@!# M-TM. Was there a
throttled (!*#@$in' dead body the time _you_ (!@#($in' investigated?"
The others looked over to see the dead man I-O Boy was hauling from the
dumpster.
=============== ===============
Sarc tried to keep his thoughtful expression from dissolving into
laughter. "Ok, I can see these guys are giving you a hard time. What
you need is a name that resonates off an existing hero. They never
laughed at Continuity Champ Jr., that's the kind of thing we need for
you."
"Mr. Sarcastic Lad, are you sure this will..."
"Trust me kid. Let's see. Cheeezarr is a name that nobody makes
fun of, and it worked for Cheeez Arrow. I've got it! Teen SqueeezCheeez!
Who could laugh at that?"
"Don't you mean Teeen SqueeezCheeez?"
"Let's stay conservative this time."
Teen SqueeezCheeez smacked his lips. "I'm starting to wonder if you
really have my best interests at heart Mr. Sarcastic Lad."
"Nonsense! Off with you! No need to thank me now, you can do
it at our next LNH meeting."
Teen SqueeezCheeez hung his head, turned around and resolutely
dragged himself towards the LNHHQ.
=============== ===============
The former bum stared at the LNHHQ from a nearby under-
construction building. [After neighborhood-destruction events in LNH
Triple Play #7 -- Ed.][And who is Ed anyway? My name is Jeff.]
His dark faceplate covered wide-open eyes. It was coming back to
him now. In scrambled pieces, but it was coming back. He wasn't truly
a brain-dead bum from Net.ropolis, comforting though it had been.
He too was originally from the future. He'd had an important
mission to fulfill, but the trauma of time travelling had somehow
shocked it from his mind. What he did remember was a suit of nano-tech
armor that had travelled with him. If he could retrieve that suit of
armor, he was sure more of his memories would come back.
The problem was that Multi-Tasking Man of the LNH had retrieved
his armor while the bum was in the midst of convincing himself he slept
in dumpsters.
The former bum touched a stud on the side of his faceplate. The
walls of the LNHHQ faded to grey while hyper-technology inside began
glowing through the walls. Kid Kirby's lab and quarters nearly blinded
the bum until he found the adjustments. Kid Kirby's lab was tuned out,
as was the Peril room, computer room, and Contraption Man's room. All
those signatures were wrong. Through process of elimination, the bum
managed to reduce the glowing techs to one signature, deep beneath the
LNHHQ.
Zooming in, the bum confirmed that it was a suit-of-armor-shaped
signature. He sighed. That was it. He watched enough news to realize
the folly of attacking the LNH directly. The man pointed the gun to the
ground.
With a tremendous fwaash, the ground vaporised beneath him. He
dropped fifteen feet into a neatly formed cylindrical tunnel. Tuning
his helmet, the man levelled his gun in the right direction. With a
series of fwaashes, he began tunnelling towards his lost suit of armor.
=============== ===============
Teen SqueeezCheeez kicked a rock petulantly as he walked back
towards the LNHHQ. "We'll let you in, we won't let you in. We'll let
you in, we won't let you in. Did they treat Spite Grrrl like this?"
The colorful youth's moping was interrupted by a muted flash from
within the building he was passing. He sized up the building, then
looked over at the silver tower of the LNH.
"Y'know. If this is a threat, and I save 'em from it...they'd
_have_ to take me in then! Ha! Teen SqueeezCheeez to the rescue!" He
darted into the construction site with renewed glee.
=============== ===============
Contraption Man sat in the half-light of the LNH's sub-sub-sub-
basement, his back against the wall. It was here that a year ago he had
tried to kill Dr. Stomper and Deductive Logic Man. He could remember
thinking of wReamicus Maximus as his messiah and performing those acts.
Thanks to the efforts of Self-Righteous Preacher he had been
deprogrammed, but the incident still pained him. He hadn't been mind-
controlled, emotion-controlled, or controlled by QVC. It had been his
own misguided idea of salvation that had led him to it. He had wanted
to do it. No amount of explanation of cult brainwashing techniques
could dull that sharp guilt. He had wanted to do it.
He didn't know which was worse, the occasional exclusion from
missions like today, or the blind trust they seemed to greet him with
most days. It was all he could do to face them without hiding in shame.
"I'd give everything I ever created if somehow it had never
happen..." CM stopped himself. That smacked too much like Retcon which
was where his troubles had all started. The Future Fabricator's face
hardened. "If they can forgive me, maybe I can someday forgive myself.
By becoming a true hero."
Contraption Man's resolve was not to get the dramatic pause it
deserved.
A side wall vaporized, revealing a shabby, helmeted figure
standing in a tunnel in the LNHHQ bedrock. He gestured menacingly with
a monstrous plasma rifle. "Back off hero. I have no quarrel with you,
but there's something here I _must_ have."
"Forget it. You've picked a bad time to pick a fight with me..."
Contraption Man suddenly recognized the helmet and gun as old technology
-- to his post-21st century sensibilities. The technology was still decades
in the LNH's future. "Unless I miss my guess you're the time disturbance we
detected earlier."
"I don't have time to explain things. If you won't step aside..."
The mysterious figure squeezed off a massive blast that momentarily
tumbled debris over Contraption Man. CM freed himself in time to see
the intruder sealing himself in a black suit of armor that had lain in
the sub-sub-sub basement.
Contraption Man had not been idle. The hero from the future had
mated several parts from a destroyed machine sharing his misfortune. He
flipped into view, the black-armored man tracking and following with his
blaster. CM clicked a knob on his new machine and the intruder gurgled
in pained anger.
"Energy-Trail Feedback makes it uncomfortable to fire doesn't it?"
"Just a pain in the neck." The black armor flowed like liquid,
his dark arms telescoping nano-draulically like retractable cables. CM
dodged between the darting appendages, but one caught him blind sided,
making him drop the nearly-completed inertial differentiator. CM barely
dodged another flying fist on a twelve foot cable-arm, when the first
caught him again. He smashed into a bank of Homage's equipment and lay
stunned as the intruder's armor formed a pair of shoulder-mounted
blasters.
"Say goodnight Dick." The black armored figure focussed the two
barrels on Contraption Man. Before he could fire, a lime green, scarlet
and yellow figure bounded from the tunnel behind him.
"Hey gruesome, why have a party if you don't invite...Teen
SqueeezCheeez!" The net.hero wannabe matched his paltry sidekick repartee
with a precise footsweep to the back of the ebony-armor knee. It
happened to hit the the precise load-bearing moment to stagger the
aggressor.
With the black attacker flailing backwards, the blasters went off.
Instead of their intended Contraption Man target, the blasts rocked the
ceiling, sending shudders through the room.
"This is taking too long." growled the attacker. "The LNH must be
alerted by now." The black armor boots bulked up jets, which pointed
Teen SqueeezCheeez's way. The youth flipped as they fired, catching a
glancing blast which spun him into the wall and out cold.
Contraption Man had regained himself. "That's quite enough." He
pointed a wicked-looking bit of cobbled together horror at the black-
armored intruder.
Another shudder ran through the room, upsetting both antagonists.
"If you can't beat it, join it," said the deadly serious voice
behind the armor. He aimed a second blast upward, which slammed into
the ceiling starting an inevitable collapse of the whole room. As great
slabs of concrete started raining down, the black-armored man grabbed a
pile of gear and blasted back out the tunnel he came in. His voice
echoed back, a hint of sorrow in it. "I didn't want it like this. You
left me no choice."
For his part, Contraption Man barely had time to think. His hands
were a blur as he reformed his invention into a shield generator. With
the room near collapse he didn't have time to make a generator large
enough for both himself and his pre-pubescent rescuer.
There was no choice really. Contraption Man punched his device to
life. A small force field glowed around Teen SqueeezCheeez just as a rock
crashed down onto it. That was the last thing Contraption Man knew.
The rest of the beleaguered supports gave way at once.
The countless tons of LNHHQ crashed down on top of Contraption
Man.
=============== ===============
THE FLAME WARS 3 CONTINUES IN ALL YOUR FAVORITE LNH TITLES! OR IF
THEY'RE NOT, YOU NEED NEW FAVORITES!
NEXT: CATALYTIC CONVERSIONS will conclude, or this title will die
trying. Not coincidentally, the two-year anniversary of
LNH TP will be celebrated. Don't miss it.
Coming in November.
=============== ===============
Triple Players:
Contraption Man.................via wReam
Sarcastic Lad...................via Saint
"the Good Kid"..................via Drizzt
Master Blaster..................Robert Ramirez
Frat Boy........................via uplink
Incredible-Man-With-No-Life.....E. Conti
grubby bum......................via Drizzt
Ultimate Ninja..................wReam
Doctor Stomper..................via Public Domain
Innovative-Offensive Boy........via Public Domain
Deductive Logic Man.............via wReam
Multi-Tasking Man...............Jeff the Wonder Llama
Ed..............................me
small cast this time 'round, and where the heck is Hooded Ho`'od Win?
special thanks to: The Drizzt's Defense Files for research materials,
the Flame Warriors (3) for all that voodoo that you do so well,
(not to mention welcoming a late-comer and putting him in the lead-off
spot), Drizzt for plot guidance and feedback and Rowan and Martin for
key snatches of conversation.
Back the FWIII page.