LNH: Dvandom Force #37 - "Moving Day"
Dave Van Domelen
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#37 - "Moving Day"
copyright 1994 by Dave Van Domelen
A Coherent Comics UnIncorporated Production
Squidman Original Concept by David Goldfarb
Sidewinder created by Mike McConnell
both used by permission/request
=============================================================================
[cover is an homage to the cover of JLI #8, with Sig.Lad in Booster's role and
Squidman in Beetle's. Sig.Lad is carrying a large box full of penguins, each
penguin lovingly rendered by the cover artist as a way of putting off doing the
interiors. One of the penguins looks uncomfortably like a Crosspost Brother.]
=============================================================================
[note: this section of the story takes place during Legion of Occult Heroes
#3 part 1, and hence before Ultimate Ninja #13]
"And another thing, I think Deja Dude deserves whatever Preacher throws at
him!"
"What, just for a little hanky panky?"
"No, for all the other stuff he's...."
"...hasn't Cat been acting strangely lately?"
"Haven't noticed. Ultimate Ninja, HE'S been acting...."
"...tell you, the Legion's too big! We should split into three or four
franchises."
"But you know as well as I do that splits only increase traffic, this
won't be any different...."
"...joke's a joke, but come ON...tell me the LNHQ doesn't actually change
shape on its own, Domestic Lad."
"Wahl, I do build some bits, but it does tend ta shift around a bit when
no one's lookin'. I think it might be alive."
"GAAAH!"
"...hear those punks over on Superguy are trying to muscle in...oh, hi,
didn't see you there, Pli. Eep."
Sig.Lad really shouldn't have been up so early, but when the flight.thingy
being launched woke him, he decided to get an early start to the day for once.
His first mistake (after actually waking up) was to come to the Cafeteria.
Granted, the calendar might say September's over (or just about over...it was
too early in the day to try and figure out exactly what the date was, in his
opinion), but that didn't mean the annual "discussions" were over. The
Cafeteria was all abuzz with rumors, accusations and innuendo, and the smart
person just avoided it altogether. Unfortunately, Sig.Lad's brains didn't turn
on until it was too late and he was being cornered by some U-Forcers for an
opinion. He'd growled from behind his bagel, and they left him alone.
A peal of laughter broke through the haze in Sig.Lad's brain, cutting
through the noise of the crowd. It had the kind of sound a long-suppressed
laugh finally being expressed had. Wheels and pulleys turned in his brain, and
placed the voice just before the owner stepped into the Cafeteria. Kat.
"BWAHAhahaha...heeehee.... That was just too brilliant! Heh...sigh...."
Kat's form flickered slightly as she seemed to be having trouble holding her
human shape, but it passed as she got control of her laughing.
The room was silent for a moment, then Rumor-Monger (yes, R-M's a
net.villain, but happened to know some juicy things about Deja Dude and was
sharing them) piped in, "Well, spill it already!"
Kat straightened out and tried to look serious, but couldn't totally keep
a grin from her face. "Well, Self-Righteous Preacher was hassling Panta again,
down by Leviathan Lass's quarters...or was it Demon Boy's? No matter, really.
Anyway, I was just thinking of something appropriately nasty to do to him...
you can only pants a man so many times before he gets used to it, after all...
when Demon Boy pops his head out of the doorway and shouts, 'DO YOU MIND?
PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO HAVE SEX HERE!'"
By the end of the sentence, fully a third of the people in the room had
chimed in, and Kat looked a bit confused. A few giggled, whether at her or
at the line itself she couldn't tell.
"It's from a movie, Kat," replied Sig.Lad around the last mouthful of his
bagel.
"Oh. Well, it was still brilliant timing. And Preacher looked about to
blow a fuse."
However, by this point, the conversations had all started up again, and no
one paid Kat any attention. She sighed. Sig.Lad stood and put his plate on
the conveyor.
"Don't worry...you can never hold anyone's attention around here this time
of year. Advanced September Syndrome...everyone makes an A.S.S. of themselves
their first year...some do it every year. Let's split before Preacher shows up
to vent his spleen in public. And no, you may not vent it for him."
A little while later, when the demonic hedgehog started roaming the halls,
Sig.Lad knew it was time to take Stan up on his offer.
* * * *
Sidewinder huffed slightly as he ran to catch up to Sig.Lad. "Hey, I
hear you're moving the subgroup to Sig.ago...."
Sig.Lad stopped and put down the box of books he was carrying. "Yep. The
LNHQ has gotten a bit crowded for my tastes...and most of the Forcers aren't
really LNH types to begin with." He picked up the box again and started
walking towards the flight.thingy bay, currently under repair [yes, that means
the rest of the issue takes place after UN #13]. "Since PKKid crashed, there
aren't enough flight.thingies for us to take one and keep it, so we're having
Bicycle Repair Lad drive us over to Illi.net and drop us off. We're just about
packed, should be leaving shortly. Already had Master Roster Man put us all on
Reserve status."
"Can I come along?"
"Well...if you're sure there won't be any trouble. After all, this is a
bad time of year to be messing with Original Members."
"I'll go check...but I'm pretty sure it's clear. If I'm not there when
you take off, figure I got stuck in another storyline, okay?"
"Okay."
Sidewinder dashed off into the depths of the LNHQ as Sig.Lad entered the
partly-repaired hangar. The rest of Dvandom Force were there already, having
had next to nothing to pack. Well, except for Cheeez Arrow, who lived in
Sig.ago and was there making the final arrangements.
They waited for a few minutes, then without fanfare climbed into the
flight.thingy and departed for the untamed wilds of Sig.ago....
* * * *
It had been HELL. Somehow, Jim Henson's estate had found out that the
author planned to rip off the scene in the M*pp*t Movie where that big hairy
guy got left behind and chased the M*pp*ts all through the movie to New York.
The furry little paralegaltroopers had been all over Sidewinder in an instant,
suffocating him in cuteness and restraining orders. If his power hadn't
pulled him to the sidelines in time, he'd be humming B*rney songs now. As it
stood, he watched from a safe distance as the malevolent ball of furry forms
consumed itself in suits and countersuits, finally disappearing with an odd
quacking sound.
However, it had served its purpose, and the flight.thingy was well and
truly gone. He checked the hangar, but nothing with that kind of range
remained...Parking Karma Kid had certainly done a number on the place.
But the pull remained. Somehow, he felt the need to go west, go to
Sig.ago. Perhaps it was the force of his Writer? Like most LNHers, Sidewinder
believed in the theory that the Looniverse was in some kind of harmony with
another dimension, a dimension where the shadowy Writers lived. Some, like
Catalyst Lass, felt that the writers exercised total control over their
characters. Others, like Sig.Lad, held that each influenced the other, and a
true master-creation relation couldn't exist so long as the character held onto
the idea of free will. Sidewinder really hadn't given it much thought...he
knew Writers existed, he'd talked to a few LNHers who had met theirs. He also
knew he had a Writer...in theory. Once, long ago, during the Cosmic Plot
Device Caper, he had felt that touch at the back of his mind. The touch that
somehow helped him decide what to do, let him know that whatever happened, he
wasn't alone. He hadn't felt that in a long time...sometimes he felt a
different sensation, as if another Writer was manipulating him, but now he felt
something...he didn't know what. A slight tug, a prodding that This Was The
Thing To Do. If he'd been of a philosophical bent, he'd have said maybe his
Writer had consulted with the Writer currently shaping his life.
Of course, it could just be that he really wanted to get out of the LNHQ,
and Sig.ago sounded as good a place as any.
But how to get there? If he used his powers, he could be there in a
flash, but that would also force him away again as quickly. He'd be sidelined
and of no use. Not to mention, he frequently ended up sidewinding somewhere he
didn't intend to be...no, better to find another way.
The bus was right out. After Bad-Timing Boy had told him about B-TB's
misadventure taking the bus at the height of the holiday season, Sidewinder had
no intention of subjecting himself to that kind of hell on wheels.
Hell on wheels...hmmmm. The beginnings of an idea began to form.
Sidewinder went to a terminal and called up his bank statement. Just as he
thought...not appearing in many stories didn't keep him from pulling a full
stipend, but it did keep him from spending it. He had a healthy nest egg built
up, easily enough for what he planned....
* * * *
"Y' suppose Sidewinder will show up eventually?" asked Kid Macro, who had
gotten to know the "old-timer" when practicing using his powers.
"Probably," replied Squidman. "I've known him for a while...he never gets
where he's going directly. He probably got sidelined for a while. Anyway,
Stan sent over the ASCII plans for the new base. It's downtown, which worries
me a bit, but he says he's got it covered. It's near the famous South Hacker
Drive, you know, the one with two levels? Anyway, it's the top three floors of
a building right next to Illi.net.att...which I suppose is why no one's worried
about net.heroes there." Squidman grinned under his mask, then continued.
"The odd thing is, when the building was first put up in 1989, the net.hero
base was part of the original plans. Weird."
Kid Macro's face lit up as if he'd just realized something, which he had.
"Hey, I was wondering why that location sounded familiar. Back in the universe
Lord Ebon exiled me to, you know, the one the Raiders are from, I seem to
recall the Academy of SuperHeroes had their base in Chicago, right about where
this base is. Must be that synchronicity thing, right Sig.Lad?"
Sig.Lad frowned slightly. "Maybe. Or the Writer is just lazy and reusing
source material. I'll wanna go over the place with a fine-toothed comb at some
point. Convenient plot devices are like Trojan Horses, you know. Let's see
those plans, Squidman."
"Right." Squidman tapped a few keys and projected the images onto the
wall of the Flight.Thingy's freight compartment (the others were up in the
smaller passenger compartment) from his Liebnitz notepad computer.
---------Hey, kids! Clip and Save, and ruin the value of your comic!---->8----
"Yo, Mr. Lazy Writer! You're ripping that off!"
Am not.
"Yes, you are! From Power Pachyderms #1," retorted Sig.Lad.
Oops. Sorry. Anyway, here's the map.
General Key:
== or I - Door
T - Restroom (public - private baths in all quarters not marked)
[F] - Freight Elevator
[E] - Normal Elevator
[Z] - Zeppelin Mooring Spar
______________________________ _______________________________
| | | | | | | |
| 1 | 2 | 3 | | 1 | 2 | 3 |
|_____==_____|___==___|__==__| |________==|____==___|___==___|
| T I I | | | |
|----| [F][E] | | | [F][E] |
|_T__I_______| 4 | | 4 I 5 |
| | | | | |
| |______==_____==| |_______|==_____==_____==___==|
| 5 | |st| | | | |st|
| | 6 |ai| | 6 | 7 | 8 |ai|
| | |rs| | | | |rs|
|____________|____________|__| |__________|_________|_____|__|
Floor 15 Floor 16
1 = Computer Lab 1 = Kid Macro's Quarters
2 = PR Office 2 = Kopikat's Quarters
3 = Sig.Lad's Ready Room 3 = Sig.Lad's Quarters
4 = Lobby 4 = Squidman's Quarters
5 = Conference/Situation Room 5 = Lounge/Rec Area
6 = Stanley King's office 6 = Rotanna's Quarters
7 = Guest Quarters (Sidewinder?)
8 = Fully equipped kitchen and larder
______________________________ _______________________________
| | | | |
| | 2 | | [Z] |
| |______==____==____| | |
| 1 | | | | |
| [F][E] I 3 | | ____[F][E]___________ |
| | |________| | | | |==|
| I 4 | | | 1 I 2 I |
|__===____I_________==_____==| | |__________==|____==__|==|
| | |st| | |st|
| 5 I 6 |ai| | |ai|
| I |rs| | |rs|
|_______|_________________|__| |__________________________|__|
Floor 17 Roof
1 - Machine Shop/Physics Lab 1 - Storage Room
2 - Workout/Training Room 2 - Caretaker's Quarters
3 - Spa/Showers
4 - Backup Generator (fence around it not shown)
5 - Storage Room (more hazardous material than stored on roof)
6 - Cheeez Labs
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kid Macro whistled, "Woo...big rooms."
Squidman nodded. "More like apartments, with a few rooms in each.
Floorplans of each room aren't shown at this scale, and are probably
customizable."
"I figured, as long as we were getting out of the LNHQ, we should get to
have a little more room to ourselves, right?" said Sig.Lad. "The rooms in the
LNHQ were okay, but they were like college dorm rooms...a reflection on the
status of most of the Writers, I suppose. It's time we moved off campus, as it
were [even if the Writer hasn't yet - Ed.]."
Kid Macro looked puzzled. "Um, what's the Zeppelin mast for?"
* * * *
A short trip to the Harley Davidson dealership [What, no cute net.name for
the company? - Ed.] [No. Harleys have a style that transcends realities -
Author] and half his savings later, Sidewinder was cruising down the street on
his brand new touring cycle. Being that this is a fictional world and waiting
in line for forms belongs in another arc of this title, he was able to get all
the licensing and stuff taken care of at the dealership in almost no time at
all.
He briefly considered asking Kid Kirby to modify the hog, but decided that
would somehow feel sacreligious. Maybe he could borrow some chrome from Kirby,
though.
Sure, he could have taken a commercial jetliner to Sig.ago for a fraction
of the cost, but somehow this felt right. And it would let the Writer vamp for
a few issues before having to decide exactly what to do with him. No powers,
no villains, just a guy and his Harley on the open road. And this time he
wouldn't be sidetracked. Well, at least no more so than any guy driving
cross-country for the first time....
* * * *
Rotanna stood in the middle of the lobby and whistled appreciatively.
"Nice place. Too bad the view from here is only of across the street."
Sig.Lad poked his head into the lobby and nodded. "Yeah, and check out
the computer room. Three SPARCs and a couple of Macs and PCs. And one of them
is a newsserver. This is almost as good as the LNHQ computer room, and
without the inconvenience of having Multi-Tasking Man and Renegade Programmer
always playing Doom in it."
Squidman sat in one of the comfy chairs. "About the only thing we lack is
transportation. I've got my cycle, and we have our personal flight.thingies,
but we don't have a lot of the long-range resources that we did as full members
of the LNH."
Kid Macro grinned. "Well, we have a Zeppelin."
"What?" spat a startled Rotanna. "Who's idiot enough to try and moor a
lighter than air ship in Sig.ago, the Longwinded City?"
"That would be me," spoke a voice from the elevator. Stanley King, also
known as the Cheeez Arrow, stepped out. "It uses special cheeez fumes to
maintain buoyancy, and modern stationkeeping computers and fanprops to hold
against the wind. It's experimental, but the FAA is willing to look the other
way. Oh, some bad news...Baron Umlaut is out of jail."
"Bail?" suggested Kopikat.
"Nope, free and clear. A cosmic being's word isn't enough to hold someone
on when there's no evidence of crime. Especially when said cosmic being
prevented the crime from taking place. Still, he's up on income tax charges in
Germa.net, thanks to the stuff we found in his computers. He should be out of
our hair for a little while, at least. The Cheeez Umlaut is upstairs in the
Cheeez Labs, I'm trying to figure out if it's scientific or magickal.
"Before I forget, the CheeeZeppelin is a lot smaller than a normal
Zeppelin, and capable of Mach 1 in a pinch."
"Please tell me the cheeez fumes are totally contained in the gas bag, and
don't leak into the passenger compartment?" pleaded Sig.Lad, too recently the
victim of some of Cheeez Arrow's more pungent inventions [Constellation #35 -
Ed].
"Don't worry...if the bag leaked, there's no way we would have gotten
permission to bring it inside the city. And it's armored and all that stuff...
really quite ingenious. Actually, the secret is that I discovered a special
anti-gravity cheeez...the denser the fumes, the more the anti-gravity effect.
It maneuvers like a Zeppelin, but lacks many of the flaws of the dirigible.
Also, if the gas does escape, it goes straight up...another safety feature."
Sig.Lad's face bore an expression of relief. "Okay. So, we're covered
for transportation inside the Looniverse as long as we stay on Earth. And the
Drizzt Defenders and the SpaceQuest: Raven people have dibs on interstellar
adventures now anyway, so we won't need spaceflight.
"But with Constellation gone and Particle Man having personal troubles,
that leaves us without interdimensional travel ability. I don't suppose you
have any transdimensional cheddar?"
"Nope, sorry...."
Suddenly conversation stopped as a shadow fell across the room. Out of
the shadow stepped a familiar black-trenchcoated figure.
"Once I might have tried to get through my signature line uninterrupted,
but such is not my fate, for I am...."
"A STRANGER," filled in everyone in the room. A smirk might have
flickered across the Dvandom Stranger's face, but none could be sure of it.
"You were correct those issues past in assuming your path would be crossed
by me many a time. And your destinies do oft lie outside the bounds of the
RACC worlds, requiring that you possess a means of travelling where fate
demands you step. Such a device exists that is ideally suited to this task,
but alas, one of my fellow Strangers has given it to Bierce already, and I have
no desire to cross his path again." The Stranger did not specify whether he
wanted to avoid Bierce or his fellow Stranger, but the Forcers knew better by
now than to ask the Dvandom Stranger to clarify a point. "Hence, a less well
suited device must suffice, but it will require more care and tending. I leave
you now, but I leave you with this device, a living breacher of dimensional
barriers and general plot device.
"I leave you the PENGUIN OF GOON."
And with that, the Dvandom Stranger disappeared into the shadows from
whence he came, leaving behind a small Rockhopper Penguin which chittered
angrily.
Sig.Lad threw up his hands. "Great, now not only do we need an
experienced Zeppelin pilot, we also need someone skilled in the care and
feeding of interdimensional penguins!"
Suddenly, a sort of musical fanfare started up. It sounded vaguely silly.
"Aiowohohooowohowaiow!" came the voice of a tall ragged gentleman standing
in the elevator. He was horrifically muscled, yet with tiny hands and feet.
His sparse hair swept back and up as if ironed there, and a pith helmet rested
on his knobby balding head. His mustache is best left unmentioned.
He spoke in a quavering, campy voice. "I heard you might be looking to
employ an ace Zeppelin pilot who also has experience in care and feeding of
interdimensional penguins?"
"How did you know that?" asked Squidman.
"I was reading this post and heard you say it." The man ignored Sig.Lad's
"Oh no, not another of these days" look. "Allow me to introduce meself. Major
Denis Bludwulf, 3rd Royal Pakistani Deserters, retired. Ace Zeppelin pilot and
et cetera as I have already said, as well."
Squidman looked suspiciously at the musclebound old man. "We're a
net.hero team...this job's bound to be dangerous. Are you sure you can handle
it?"
"Am I sure? Of course, me lad. I wasn't always this shambling wreck you
see before you...I used to be a superhero meself! Of course, this was back
before the naughty string and wax Internet had been invented, so we called
ourselves the Society of Wireless Heroes instead. Ooohhhh, those were the
times, I tell you. Fighting Jerry and then the Russkies. Little Atom Jim, the
Blue Bottle, WildCrun, old Neddie Thunderbox, Black Minnie and who could forget
Dustbinman...well, he could, probably. Poor lad never did have much of a
brain. And then there was me. Fortnightman."
Kid Macro decided to play the straight man, and asked, "Because you have
powers that last two weeks at a time?"
"No, because it took them a fortnight to find me whenever I ran off!
OOOhhhh I'm in condition tonight! Sadly, though, I had one of those sinful
modern type power surges, and they haven't seen me since Nineteen Plinty
Plonge."
"What?" boggled Rotanna.
"Never mind that, where did you get all the disproportionate muscles,
Bludwulf? They certainly don't look like 1950's standard issue," noted
Squidman.
"Well, I was walking in the park, minding me own business...not running
from the police or anything, mind you...when this tennis ball goes BONK! on me
nut, and I swell up like a dreaded batter pudding left in the oven too long!"
"Robgoblin," nodded Sig.Lad. "When he's not powered up as Youngstud, he
takes some kind of perverse pleasure in deforming innocent people into his own
vision of anotomical correctness. As a Golden Age hero, you must have been too
tempting a target to ignore, Bludwulf. I assume your name wasn't always
Bludwulf?"
"Indeed you are right. After the tennis ball accident, I couldn't help
but change my name. Well, it's been a long day at work, time to go round the
back for the old brandy, wot?"
Before anyone could point out he hadn't even been officially hired yet,
Bludwulf had left the room, accompanied by the sound of a crowd of people eager
to nip round the back for a bit of the old brandy.
"How does he do that?" asked Kid Macro.
"He's a radio guy...it's one of their standard powers," replied Squidman.
* * * *
The Little Man liked to think he ran Sig.ago through control of its mobs.
Of course, he didn't even have total control of the mobs, much less the city,
but he was certainly close enough to allow himself a little self-delusion now
and again. However, anything which threatened to lessen his control made him
very angry.
Net.heroes made him very angry. A few months ago, it had looked like the
LNHer Decibel Dude might get involved in Sig.ago affairs because of connections
his girlfriend Samantha Spoon had. Fortunately, nothing had come of that to
disturb the delicate balance the Little Man had set up.
But now a whole raft of the dratted goody-goodies had decided to set up
shop downtown. And what's worse, they had several members of low enough power
that they'd be very interested in fighting the normal criminal element instead
of sticking to world-beating lunatics like good little net.heroes.
<The reader's view shifts to bring the Little Man out of the shadows.
He's drawn in the Ditko mobster style of the early Spider-Man comics, and
chomps at a cigar through his metal mask. The mask protects his secret
identity as a normal upstanding citizen from being compromised. Of course, the
Writer wouldn't be so foolish as to make him a reporter, would he? Well,
maybe. In any case, the face behind the mask will remain a secret for now.>
Better to bring in some hired guns to drive the heroes away or kill them
before they become too much of a nuisance. Preferably ones with some other
link that would explain why they attacked the heroes, so no one would dig too
deeply and find his hand in it.
A knock came at the door, and two aging figures stepped in without waiting
for permission. One wore a black stormtrooper's uniform with a red pound sign
over his heart, as well as a sabre at his side with the guard picked out in red
paint as to look like a pence symbol. The other was dressed in a fairly
unconvincing gorilla suit.
"Hello. I heard you were looking for someone to eliminate a group of
heroes for you, preferably ones with an alternate motive for wanting to destroy
the group?" asked the black-dressed one.
"Yeah, but someone already used that gag this issue, so forget about
trying for a punchline. All right, who are you?" snarled the Little Man.
"I am Hercules Net.pype Thynne, known in better days as the insidious Per
Annum, deadly foe of the Society of Wireless Heroes. My shambling wreck of an
associate is Count Jim 'Not That Moriarty' Moriarty, known in worse days as the
insipid InfraHumanite, not-so-deadly foe of the SWH. We have been made aware
by reading the script that our old foe, Fortnightman, has joined with the very
group you seek to remove, providing motive." Beside him, the InfraHumanite
quietly said, "Aiowwwww...."
"Okay, but why is your associate in a gorilla suit?"
The InfraHumanite angrily replied, "Sapristi knuckoes! This is no suit,
my brain has been transplanted into the body of a mighty not-for-smoking type
gorilla! You got to go aiowwwwww...."
Per Annum stepped up to the desk and leaned in conspiratorially. He
whispered, "Actually, the gorilla declined the operation, feeling it would be
an evolutionary step down. So I knocked Moriarty out and stuffed him in a
gorilla suit to stop his complaining. Don't tell him the truth, it would
drive him dangerously sane."
The Little Man shook his head and spat out the remnant of his cigar. "All
right, you're hired. How exactly do ya plan ta rub them out?"
"Simplicity itself! We simply use your resources to rebuild my old time
machine (again) and go back in time to ERASE THEM FROM EXISTENCE ITSELF!"
Evil laughter filled the room....