AS AN ACT OF PENANCE FOR ENCOURAGING wREAM TO WRITE, CCU PRESENTS.... ============================================================================= DVANDOM | -. -. -. | ________| ____ \ ,___ \ ____ \ ________| | .' \ | | / ` | | | | | | | / ___| | | | | ` / | | __| | | < | __| | | | ,--- \ \ | | | \ | | \ ` | | | / | \ / | ___| _______-' ___| ____\ -______-' ____________| #41 - "Full Metal Trilby" CRISIS ON EARTH-GOON : CONCLUSION! copyright 1994 by Dave Van Domelen A Coherent Comics UnIncorporated Production ============================================================================= [cover shows the Society of Wireless Heroes bursting through a wall with a mighty explosion in the background. They look very grim and gritty, as if they've been through six months of the Vi.net.Nam War] ============================================================================= [Editor's note: "Trilby" is a kind of hat in the case of this issue's title.] * * * * The CheeeZeppelin emerged into something roughly approximating reality [very roughly - Ed] hovering a few hundred meters over an alter.net version of Net.ropolis. They had arrived in the Gooniverse at last, after an endless timeless time in interdimensional space. The radio immediately crackled to life, having been left on by Bludwulf before leaving a few issues back. "This is the BBC World Service bringing you the news for 18 November, Nineteen Nindyfnee..." began the droning voice of the BBC announcer. "Ah, melody divine!" exclaimed Bludwulf. "November 18?" spat Kopikat. "You mean we lost, um...damn, that crossover with CAW blew my sense of time. Anyway, I'm sure we left on this trip weeks ago!" Sig.Lad frowned. "It's all too easy to get sucked into spending way too much time fighting newbies." "But, we only faced them for a few minutes!" protested Kid Macro. "It seemed that long, anyway..." mused Squidman. "Still, keep in mind we never did learn what all of their powers were...I can see Kid September's powers including the ability to make time run faster outside of September and slower during that month...a sort of dilation effect to make it permanent September, and bring September again quickly if it should happen to pass." "You've been spending time with Doctor Stomper again, haven't you?" smirked Kid Macro. "Of course, time spent with him seems like forever...." There were a few chuckles and a rude noise from Bludwulf, before Mr. Macro spoke up (you see, the author forgot all about him last issue, and he's feeling left out). "I'm afraid that the lost time will have allowed our enemies to finish off the Society. Shouldn't we check on them?" he asked, a bit uncomfortable in ad-libbing. "Who, the enemies or the Society?" asked Bludwulf. "The Society, of course!" replied Mr. Macro. "Pity, they've always been terrible bores," shrugged the former Fortnightman. Meanwhile, Kopikat wanted to brood, having a great deal of unresolved issues from way back in #25, but the generally silly mood the author was in prevented it. She decided she'd have to get herself a limited series or something if she ever wanted to resolve the problems of her past...and future. [Hey, readers! You want to see a Kopikat LS or one-shot? Call 1-900-KOPIKAT and let us know! - Ed] [Legal Department Note: Do not call that number, we have no idea where it's been] "You done?" asked Sig.Lad. Yes. Carry on. "Thanks. Anyway, I think the first thing we should do is check out Net.ropolis City Hall." "Why?" asked Rotanna. "It's not like anything actually happens there." "Call it a hunch, but I think something might be happening there now." Sig.Lad pointed out the window in the direction of the old City Hall building. Atop it, in place of the Loonited States flag, flew a black flag with a red dollar sign sinister. Well, it was sinister in the dramatic sense, not the heraldic sense. After all, it would look pretty silly to stretch a dollar sign from one corner of the flag to another, wouldn't it? * * * * Meanwhile, in the rivers underneath Net.ropolis, the Society of Goon Heroes was progressing confidently along the route plotted by expert orienteer and First Class Boy Scout, Blue Bottle. "Log of the Rubber Dinghy. Day twenty-three. Lost," dictated Neddie Thunderbox as Th'rote typed. How a thunderbox, magical or no, could type is beyond me, I'm just the writer. "Opened last parcel of food from postbox today, face starvation if we don't find the headwaters or footwaters soon. Fortnightman down with the Lurgi. Dustbinman up with the Lark. No water." He paused to help bail some of the water from the boat, then continued. "Were forced to abandon following vital supplies in order to lighten the load, as the dinghy has a leak. "One brass and wax replica of the Queen Mum made of solid lead. "Three gross electric self-winding knee straps. "One plasticene lump with strange green thing embedded in it. "One OOOOoooooOOOOH! "Three "One ballotbox with reversible insides. "Hundredweight ostrich feathers. "WildCrun and Black Minnie. "Fifty miles of heavily-knotted twine shaped into the rough likeness of Nelson's Column. "Nelson's Column. "We can afford to jettison no more vital supplies. I only hope we reach our destination before we all come down with the Spon. I wake up every morning afraid to roll up my pantslegs to check. Close logbook." * * * * A cloud of dust swirled up around Sidewinder just as he felt his power turn off. Coughing, he pulled over to the side of the road, not wanting to drive blind down a winding forest road. In a few moments, the odd cloud had dissipated. Sidewinder looked around to see where it might have blown in from, then noticed that the town was no longer there! "Some kind of Kirbian Brigadoon?" he muttered to himself. Then he did a doubletake. Everything was more vibrant. Leaves moved in the breeze even when he wasn't looking directly at them. A thousand scents mingled in the breeze, the heady smells of late fall in the eastern mountains. He was used to all of these, of course, but he wasn't used to them being always on. Readers may be confused here for a moment, but consider that the Looniverse is net.based, and as such has to consider limitations of bandwidth and disk space. Areas not in use often shut down completely until needed again, sometimes even being compressed and put away. And peripheral sensations only exist when writers specifically introduce them for some mood-setting or dramatic purpose. And even then, only the things specifically mentioned come up. But Sidewinder was, perhaps for the first time in his life, experiencing all the millions of tiny sensations the world can offer, but which would take pages and pages to describe even a moment of. After this sank in, he realized why his power had stayed on, and where he was now. He was in a "real" world, one not tied to the Net. Like the one Constellation came from, or Kopikat. Somehow he'd been totally removed from the story this time, sidelined all the way into another dimension. But how? His power had never worked quite like that before. And perhaps more importantly...why? Was there something that important about to happen back in the Looniverse that he had to be shoved out of the reality entirely to be effectively sidelined? Or had someone taken advantage of his power to force him out? And in either case, what was going on that he had to be removed? His reverie was broken as a state trooper's car pulled up behind him. Uh oh, he thought. The trooper stepped out of his car and walked up to Sidewinder, an obvious look of disdain in his eyes as he saw Sidewinder's costume. "Th' sign back there said 'No Stopping,' mister. Could I see your license 'n registration?" Sidewinder winced. This was going to be fun to explain. And trying to protest wouldn't do any good...this cop was obviously bored and looking for something to do. Complaining that stopping in a no stopping zone is hardly a felony wouldn't work. "Um, I can't show you the registration, I just bought it last week. The paperwork is on its way to Sig.ago, where I'm headed." "Chicago, eh? Funny, yer hog looks a bit more than a week old." "Yeah...I took a spill trying to avoid some crazy drivers the other day. I got it fixed, but it's still not mint." Sidewinder made a mental note of the name of Sig.ago in this reality. Fortunately, the trooper had chalked it up to regional accents. "Okay, let's see yer license." Sidewinder slowly pulled out his wallet and extracted his license. He suppressed a shudder as he saw the address. "LNHQ, Net.ropolis, Net.Jersey." He handed it to the trooper, who snatched it out of his reluctant hand. Fortunately, he'd had the photo taken when he was experimenting with a maskless costume...explaining a driver's license with a full face mask in the photo would go beyond fun and into impossible. The trooper squinted at the license, then looked up at Sidewinder. "It says your name is Sidewinder? What the hell kind of name's that?" "The kind of name you get when your parents got married at Woodstock and then moved to the desert and decided to name their kid after the first natural thing they saw when they looked out of the tent in the morning," he blurted, lying desperately and quickly. "And, um, they decided that last names were signs of patriarchal oppression and never gave me one. Sometimes I go by Sid E. Winder, though. But Sidewinder's my legal name." "Yeah, you'll fit right in, in Chicago," muttered the trooper. "Metropolis, New Jersey? Like Superman in the comics?" Sidewinder'd never heard of the character the trooper mentioned, but decided to play along. "Yeah, small suburb...the planners thought it would be cute to name it after the comic's Metropolis. And LNHQ is the name of a small place that does mail boxes and stuff. I travel a lot, so I needed a permanent mailing address." The trooper smirked and walked around back of the Harley. Then he frowned. "Hey, that ain't New Jersey's license plate design." "Um, commemorative plates?" Sidewinder suggested. "Uh-uh. I suggest you get off the hog while I put yer plates in the computer and run a check." He pulled out his gun to make the suggestion carry a little more weight. Sidewinder carefully dismounted, not wanting to test whether any of his other heroic attributes still worked unless it became absolutely necessary. The trooper pulled a small terminal out of the patrolcar and tapped in Sidewinder's plate colors and number. Sidewinder sweated for the minute it took the computer to link up with its central database, debating making a run for it. "Well I'll be f..." the trooper swore. "It's legit. Fed plates." Sidewinder got an idea and ran with it. He sighed. "Yes, officer. I was hoping I wouldn't have to blow my cover to get past you, but I'm a Fed. Working undercover for the DEA, tracking down smugglers who take drugs into the country from the north using smaller roads like this. And no, you can't see my ID...getting caught with DEA ID while undercover can be lethal. Now, if that is ALL...?" "Um, sure, sir...officer, er, agent Sidewinder. Give them smugglers one fer me!" He halfheartedly tried to look enthused, then embarrassedly slinked back into his car and turned it around to leave. By the time the trooper had realized the contradiction in Sidewinder's story, the net.hero was already miles away.... * * * * Acton Lord stood from the monitoring station and smiled broadly. His agent was in place, and would seek out the person Acton Lord required. Consciously, he would be aware of nothing. He'd think it random impulse, or perhaps intuition. At worst, he might suspect something was wrong...but would no doubt play along in hopes of finding out what *was* wrong. Heroes could be so predictable that way. "A million pardons, boss. I am being here with the data you commanded finding of?" said Jawahrlal, the Gradgnome stumbling over the words and syntax. Acton Lord snapped the printout out of his servant's hand and scanned it quickly. Then he read it again, more carefully, a frown creasing his features. Then he sat down and pored over one section in particular, as if looking for some typo, some mistake. He scowled and tossed the printout back to his minion. "Damnation!" he spat. His plan was ruined. It would cause the very fate he hoped to prevent. Without a link of life energy, the Looniverse would shrivel up and die...whether the link was severed from above, or simply attenuated away to nothing by distance. And it looked like any attempt to insulate the Looniverse from harm would kill it as surely as what had killed the Looniverse that was home to Leviathan Lass, Demon Boy and...Green Trenchcoat. "Of course...." * * * * "Isn't life wonderful, Moriarty?" asked Per Annum from atop a heap of gold bullion. "We've never had it so good!" agreed the insipid InfraHumanite from beneath said heap. "Indeed. And once we turn the tables on our erstwhile employer...oh dear, here comes that Italian charlie. HelLO, my dear Vinnie," oozed Per Annum's voice. It was a voice like a beeshive, full of wax and little insects. "Ey, boss," rejoined the immortal capo. "Ats'a nice pile a' gold things ya got there." "Gold bullion," corrected Per Annum. "Yeah, shoo, you're a bullion the gold all right. Now get off, it's'a my turn." "You silly twisted boy," sneered Thynne. "But I forgive you. And just to show no hard feelings, here's five pounds in tenners." "I'd rather have five pounds inna gold, eh? Now move over before I gotta get rough, no?" "Now, now...there's no need for us to fight." "Shoo dere is...dis issue's gettin' boring. It could use some more puncheminnaface action." "But of course! InfraHumanite?" "Aiioooowww...yes?" WHACK! "Sapristi knuckoes! Why did you punch me in the face with that leather and steel left-handed boxing glove?" "Because my right-handed glove is at the farrier's. Now that the obligatory violence has been taken care of, be a good devolved monkeyman and fetch the capo and myself a bottle of wine that we might celebrate our victory over the forces of law and order." "What he said, and make it a double," agreed Vinnie Goth. Aiowing, the shabby little Frenchman shuffled off to the wine cellar of City Hall. And people say the Net.ropolis city government wastes tax dollars! Meanwhile, Per Annum had flattened the top of the pile of gold sufficiently that both he and Vinnie could sit atop it. Moments later, the InfraHumanite had returned with the bottle, Chataeux Fred '53, and poured it into tumblers for the two master villains, deftly adding five pounds of arsenic to Vinnie's so cleverly that only a man with eyes could have seen it. Per Annum smiled widely and held up his glass in toast.... ...only to have it shot out of his hand by a blur of yellow! "Don't you know wine goes best with Cheeez?" taunted Cheeez Arrow from the skylight, as the rest of Dvandom Force burst in through the doors and windows, having taken care of the thugs guarding them. "The game is up, Per Annum! Now just hand me that gold and you can be on your way!" shouted Bludwulf. Per Annum was aghast. "Dennis, what happened to you? Did they pack you in with a Charlie Atlas kit at the post office? Oh, never mind how you got all those bulging-if-not- totally-anatomically-correct muscles, or who your friends are. We prepared for this possibility. Moriarty, unleash the PUDDING!" Using that brief moment of hesitation between confusion and hilarity, InfraHumanite pulled aside a bolt, opening the door to the atrium and unleashing a large brown object with a stem on top. "Gasp! It's the savage portion of the International Christmas Pudding! Run, men!" shouted Bludwulf. "Yeah, right," sneered Kopikat as she grew to her full eight meters of robotic might. Reaching out one hand, she snatched up the savage pudding and squeezed. A Christmasy smell filled the air as the pudding oozed out between her fingers. She shook her hand off. "Anything else, or would you like to surrender now?" Then the floor exploded. * * * * "Log of the Rubber Dinghy. Having relieved Blue Bottle of navigation duties and stuffed him back in his bottle, we now find ourselves making much better time. End log. "Dustbinman, do you see anything from the Crow's Nest?" Looking up, we see Dustbinman dressed in a black outfit and wearing "Hell Mime" makeup and Doc Martens. "Nope, just these movie offers." "Not *in* the nest, fool of fools! Ahead!" "Nope, nothin'." "Try using your binoculors." "Okay. OOOooohh...that's bettah." "You see anything?" "Nope, but you can see it much clearer wit' dese!" "It's no use, get down from there. If we can't find our way by sight, that leaves sound. Turn on the ASDIC!" "Right-o, Fred!" replied Dustbinman. "I'm not Fred!" "And I'm not Dick!" "Shut up Dick! Turn on the ASDIC!" "Right-o, Dick!" PONG! "Ohh!" "Aiow!" "Nosh me slappers!" PONG! "It's Max Mercuray!" "Run!" Several miles down the tunnel, where they'd been driven by the music you just heard, our heroes had finally reached a dry stretch and had abandoned the dinghy. "Hey, wait for me!" shouted Dustbinman, running to catch up. Meanwhile, Ned was tapping on one of the walls. "Hear that, Fortnightman? It sounds all weak and hollow!" "It must be a government job!" merrily jested Fortnightman. "Exactly! City Hall must be right above us, and now doubt that's where Per Annum and his thugs will have gone after disposing of us!" "How do you know that?" "I read the script. Ahem. Still, we need to figure out exactly who's on the other side of that wall." Fortnightman stepped up to the wall. "Allow me." PONK PONK! "Ah, it's . I knew them before the war. Later on, they split up and became and , but they later rejoined forces and are again." "Are you sure?" asked Ned. "Of course, I'd know anywhere. Mind, you, if you hear ...." "Yes?" "One of them is an impostor!" "Which one?" "Aha! But...what if it's really Per Annum's brutal band of killers?" Fortnightman drew himself up heroically, losing three buttons off his trousers in the process. "Brutal killers, eh? *I* know how to handle brutal killers! Just you wait here...." Fortnightman's steps echoed into the distance. "Log of the Dinghy. We never saw him again. End of entry. Blue Bottle?" "Yes, my capitan? Springs into action with the power of knotted string and cream of wheat knickers! Turns to audience and awaits applause, not a sosinge. My duty is to serve you, your rotten swine what gets me deaded every episode. No matter! I am the hero, true and stout! Crime does not pay, I say! Crime does not pay! If it did, I woulda joined it." "Are you done?" "Yes," whined Blue Bottle. "Good. Now, we need to blast through that wall. Take this stick of red dynamite and wedge it into a crack in the wall, light the fuse, and run." "Yes, I will do this! Takes stick of red dynamite. Sticks it in hole. Sings. Take my hand, I'm a stranger in paradise.... Lights fuse, goes off screen singing." "Run!" shouted Neddie, and there was the sound of trampling footsteps running into the distance. From a safe distance, Neddie exhaled. "Now, as soon as that explodes, we'll have the drop on Per Annum's men!" Footsteps rapidly approached, and Dustbinman came into view. "You forgot this!" he said proudly, holding up the lit stick of dynamite. There was barely time to scream in sheer terror, before.... ******** ****** ****** **** **** **** ********** ********** ********** ***** ***** **** **** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ****** ****** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ******* ******* **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ******** ******** **** **** ***** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** *********** **** **** **** **** **** ******** **** **** *********** **** **** **** **** **** ****** **** **** **** ***** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** **** **** ** ********** ********** ********** **** **** **** ******** ****** ****** **** **** ** When the dust had settled, at was apparent that at least two plot threads had finally dovetailed. Per Annum, InfraHumanite and Vinnie Goth all lay battered under piles of rubble, and Dvandom Force was a bit dusty but otherwise unhurt. Ned vaulted out of the hole the dynamite had created, sensing a chance to look heroic. "And thus, good triumphs over naughtiness, and evil is again routed and...er, round the back for the old brandy, eh?" When the dust had again settled, the Society of Wireless Heroes, as well as Per Annum and Infrahumanite, had gone round the back for a nip of the old brandy. Sig.Lad turned to Mr. Macro, who had stayed behind. "Do all your adventures end this way?" he asked. "Mostly, yes. They do tend to end on a bit of an anticlimax." Dustbinman stuck his head around the corner and quipped, "I'm the anticlimax, folks," before going back to the cast party. "Y'know, someday I'd like to see what plot resolution is like," said Cheez Arrow, somewhat wistfully. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, trust me," confided Rotanna. "Actually," came a sardonic voice from the shadows, "you'll get yer chance soon enough." "Netlurker!" hissed Sig.Lad, whirling to face the source of the voice. Said source stepped out of the shadows, but no more light seemed to fall on him than before. "I've come to call in my markers, Sig.Lad. You owe me for helping with those Net.Elementals and for making you those newsgroup hoppers [Constellation #11 and #23 respectively - Ed], and I've come to collect. And don't go protesting that you won't do anything immoral or illegal...there's better people to call on for that stuff than you guys anyway. Well, the robokitty's pretty good for that, but I digress." He struck a dramatic Dvandom-Stranger-like pose, and introduced the next plotline by saying, "I have reason to believe Acton Lord's plotting to use my alt.versions across the dimensions in a plot to cut the Looniverse off from the Writers." ============================================================================== TO BE CONTINUED IN "CRYSYS OF YNFYNYTE TYMS PART ONE," IN DVANDOM FORCE #42 AND CERTAIN ISSUES OF OTHER TITLES! ============================================================================== Writer's Notes: I stole from more Goon Show episodes than I know the names of this time, but here's a partial list of references. Case of the Vanishing Room - "Where they'd been driven by that music" bit Great Bank of England Robbery - Most of what I didn't rip off from it last issue International Christmas Pudding - The savage portion of pudding Lost Horizontally and many others - Equipment lists Napoleon's Piano - The logbook and line about down with the Lurgi, the Stranger in Paradise reference sort of Rommel's Treasure - "You can see it much clearer with these" gag. Scradge! - inspired Ned's heroic end speech I can't recall where "I'm the anticlimax, folks!" comes from. The International Christmas Pudding and a version of Napoleon's Piano are available in the US as BBC tape releases, check your local library or disreputable book store. As usual, Vinnie Goth was my attempt at writing Chico Marx dialogue, but it didn't seem to work out as well in practice as it had looked in theory, so he didn't get many lines. This will be the last issue crossposted to alt.fan.goons, at least until I'm once again insane enough to try another Earth-Goon crossover. For those there who wish to follow the other plotlines to something resembling a conclusion, check out rec.arts.comics.creative or alt.comics.lnh, which despite recent traffic are not groups for discussing the X-Men titles.