.|. COHERENT COMICS UNINCORPORATED ---X------------------------------------------------------------------------- '|` PRESENTS A SPECIAL GIANT-SIZED ISSUE OF DVANDOM | -. -. -. | ________| ____ \ ,___ \ ____ \ ________| | .' \ | | / ` | | | | | | | / ___| | | | | ` / | | __| | | < | __| | | | ,--- \ \ | | | \ | | \ ` | | | / | \ / | ___| _______-' ___| ____\ -______-' ____________| #42 - CRYSYS OF YNFYNTE TYMS! copyright 1995 by Dave Van Domelen certain sections copyright 1995 Mark Friedman mention of Amber is in no way intended as a challenge to Trademark ============================================================================= [cover shows Acton Lord with a long string of Earths between his hands, like a magician might riffle a deck of cards from one hand to the other. Being crushed between each pair of planets is a small figure, each one different. One is Tymythy Twystyd.] ============================================================================= "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," said Netlurker. Then everyone waited for the Writer to recover from including the entirety of Dvandom Force #41 and editing out everything but that line. "You know, for a modest fee, I could provide you with a real editing program," noted Netlurker. No, but thanks for offering. Now get to the plot, people have been waiting long enough as it is, what with *your* writer being off in his own little world for a month and not answering email. "Touchy! Okay, to save Kittykat the embarrassment of once again being the designated newbie, I'll explain why this is a Bad Thing. This Looniverse runs on drama, like many PluRealities that might be called fictional. Unrealistic things happen for the sake of the plot all the time, even not counting superpowers. However, our universe cannot manufacture its own drama, at least not enough to sustain the high rate at which we consume it. We need to drain it from another PluReality, one where there's more drama manufactured than they can use domestically. A sort of interuniversal economy, if you will. The Writers are people in this other reality who lead fair boring lives, but are cursed with the ability to generate drama." "Okay, how do you *know* they lead boring lives?" Rotanna asked, beating Kat to the punch. Netlurker smirked, although it was barely visible through the shadows that played about his face. "Easy. If they led exciting lives, they wouldn't have the extra drama to send us...or the time to write. It's a symbotic relationship: we need extra drama to live in the style to which we have become accustomed, they need an outlet for their extra drama lest they go insane and do something antisocial, like posting MAKE.MONEY.FAST from a hacked .gov site." "So, without the drama they send us, everything would die, like in that other Looniverse?" asked Kid Macro, a touch worried that he'd lose his world so soon after rediscovering it. "Not exactly. The drama flow was cut down to that dead reality, but someone found a way to cut off the life connection entirely. We also depend on other PluRealities for lifeforce, but that connection is more passive. It won't cut off just because people in the other PluReality lose interest in us. No, it takes an assault to snap that connection. Besides, Acton Lord knows about that, and no doubt has found some mage to help him maintain the life link while he cuts off the drama flow. As an aside, I might note that the LNH Writers in that other PluReality found enough excitement in their real lives to match their drama levels...be careful what you wish for, yes?" "Aside from becoming more boring around here, what dire effects would loss of drama have?" asked Sig.Lad, suspicious. "Acton Lord must have a private Drama Battery, if you will, or he wouldn't try this." "He does, and so do you. The...." "Dvandom Stranger!" gasped Sig.Lad. "What is it with never getting to finish a sentence ending in that guy's name?" muttered Netlurker. "Yes. While other characters have met their Writers, you and Acton Lord never have, in a strict sense. In a loose sense, however, you see him quite a bit. The Dvandom Stranger was a Writer from yet a *third* universe who had lost interest in writing. When it became necessary to restore Dial "D" for Dvandom to the continuity, Acton Lord couldn't actually sieze his *own* Writer, since that would have made things really messy. Instead he found an alternate version of his Writer, one he could affect without toasting his own drama source. You and he can draw drama from the Stranger, but no one else can. And Acton Lord's already made it so that you personally cannot return to the Looniverse right now," Netlurker flashed a handheld screen at Sig.Lad, showing some arcane scribblings on it, then pulled it away, "presumably by turning the Earth Force or whatever against you. Magic's not exactly my specialty. Fortunately, you don't need to go there to stop him...." "Hold it," interrupted Cheeez Arrow. "I've dealt with you contractor types before, you don't do *anything* out of altruism. What's your motive in wanting to do this? The LNH can't have hired you, since you're asking us for help, and Acton Lord certainly wouldn't." "Too true. Actually, I have two motives. First and foremost, I *don't* care for having my alt.versions used without being paid, and that's what Acton Lord plans to do...exploit the Bose Effect that has spread my alts to so many PluRealities, and slam an infinitely thick layer of universes between us and the Writers. The mage'll be there to make sure this doesn't snap the life link. No doubt the effect will be less than pleasant for any being linked to me, including me. However, I did find someone willing to pay me to stop Acton Lord as well, but that's incidental. And no, I can't tell you who. Confidentiality. And the fact that the Writer has no idea either [Hey! Yes I do...I just don't have permission yet. - Writer]. Whatever. Suffice to say, there's a good many powerful beings that would be adversely affected by a drying up of drama. But with drama cut off and you kept out of the Looniverse, Sig.Lad, the only people who will be able to function normally would be Acton Lord and his minions. Oh, and Limp-Asparagus Lad. But he's not available in continuity for another month yet, since he's bulletholed on Christmas, and it's still November here." Sig.Lad looked to the others. None looked too confident or pleased, but they seemed to accept this. "Okay, now you were saying something about not having to stop him in the Looniverse?" "Right. In order to make this plan work, he'd have to have an anchor at each end of the 'stack.' One end, of course, is the Looniverse, where he has plenty of resources and stopping him would be insanely hard, even with my help. The other end, however, is Real Life, the drama source for this Looniverse. He can't go there, however, since Real Life doesn't contain superbeings. If you put a net.hero into Real Life, it would diverge from RL at that moment and become, oh, I'll call it Real Life Minus One. Earth Prime would sound better, but it's taken. And while we can't follow to RL, we *can* go to RL-1. He'd need to put an agent in place very close to my alt.version there, a Mark Friedman, who lives in Columbus, Ohio. He wouldn't go himself, too much chance his powers wouldn't work there. So he'd use a dupe, someone he can shove into RL-1 and then channel his powers through. And then abandon afterward, since he'd never be able to retrieve the agent from so 'far' away dimensionally." "Will our powers work there?" Sig.Lad asked. "Nope, don't think so. In fact, I'd advise against taking Katnap there, she might not be based on valid scientific principles there...she'd fall apart into nanotech dust. Fortunately, your Writer chose to put a couple of skill- based heroes in the group, and establish your talents without use of powers [in Constellation #16 - Ed], so you're not totally screwed." "Hey, I *was* a scientist myself when I was human. I can assure you, my body's based on totally valid science," Kat protested. "Maybe, but maybe RL-1 has different rules. What if General Relativity is valid there? I'm not willing to take that chance. Besides, you have at least two cameos you have to make in the Looniverse." "One of them's not for a month, and the other's in CAW...even *thinking* of fitting that into continuity's laughable," she countered. "Sorry, but no dice. It's too dangerous, you're not going. But, do we leave you here, or leave me here while the others drop you off?" "No time to drop her off, I'm afraid. Even this discussion's taking far too long," advised Netlurker. "Ahem," interrupted the portly Mr. Macro. "I believe I may be of assistance. If someone will prepare a statement to the effect that Ms. Kat was returned to the Looniverse, I could read it and make it happen. It's already a known fact that my ability is sufficient for travel between our two universes." "Rubbish!" shouted Ned Thunderbox from off-stage. "But beautifully spoken!" countered Bludwulf from off-Broadway. "Okay, that's what we'll do. We can type it up on Netlurker's portable and send her back, then the rest of us can take the CheeeZeppelin to RL-1," decided Sig.Lad. * * * * There was a chill in the late November air as Sidewinder navigated the congested Interstate 270 on his Harley. His costume was hardly adequate protection against the biting cold, but for some reason, stopping to get warmer clothing didn't occur to him. For once in his life he somehow *knew* he was going somewhere, *knew* he'd be at the focus of the action and not the sidelines. And nothing on this Earth could stop him from getting into the action, certainly not the weather. * * * * Kid Macro looked up from the window. "So that's Colum.bus. Not too impressive." "Columbus, not Colum.bus, kid," chided Netlurker. "The Gooniverse doesn't have net-related names for everything. Anyway, it may be the most important spot in the universe...in *all* the universes...right now. And your job is to make sure it *stays* unremarkable and unimportant." "Is the penguin ready, Bludwulf?" Cheeez Arrow called back from the copilot's seat. "Yes, I fed it some nice herring, it's happy as...well, happy as a penguin that's just been fed some nice herring, I suppose," replied the hulking ex-Indian Army deserter as he worked his way fore. "I've installed a drama detector in the nav system. You can just home in on the largest source of drama, it'll get you there in a snap. Now, if you'll excuse me..." said Netlurker. "Wait! Where are you going?" asked Sig.Lad. "I need to make certain...arrangements with my employer. Backup plans in case you fail. Trust me, I'll be of no help there." And with that, he disappeared. "Ter-RIF-fic," sighed Kid Macro. "Well, nothing to do but to do it. Engage Penguin!" commanded Sig.Lad. "But she's Catholic and I'm Anglican!" protested Bludwulf. "Shut up Ecc...er, just turn the penguin on, and no snide sexual innuendo!" There was a brief swirling of colors, and then the scenery was back, totally unchanged. Then the klaxons started going off. "What are those things for, Cheeez?" demanded Sig.Lad. "Lemme check...damn, we're caught in a Static Plot Bubble! Our reality is too foreign for RL-1 to digest such a big chunk of at once...we can't move outside the bubble without dire consequences!" "How dire?" asked Rotanna, since Kat wasn't around to ask. "Well, at best, being spat back out into the Gooniverse. At worst, being spat back out into the Gooniverse...a little bit at a time as the bubble interface is crossed." "Ow," was the reply from the team's mystic. "Wait, light crosses the barrier, or else we couldn't see through it! So there must be a way to get through," realized Squidman, finally getting a line. "Exactly, light passes through. So would any piece of unliving matter, but we can't know how it would be affected. Living things would be sent home, though, as would unliving matter that couldn't exist naturally here. If only we could somehow expand the bubble, though, or move it, so we could get close enough to do something." Sig.Lad smacked his forehead. "Damn, if this were a Flight.thingy, all we'd have to do is strip some of the extra thingy.thingies out of it and make some kind of plot.thingy to move the bubble, or create our own personal bubbles." "Um, what the Hell (TM) is a thingy.thingy? Sounds perverse," commented Rotanna. "The thingy.thingy is the heart of all standard LNH technology. Back in the 60s, between Four Color Man and PULP and the current crop of net.heroes, there were the Net.tastic Nine, led by the brilliant Mr. Thingy. He devised the principles behind the thingy.thingy, and we now use them for Flight. thingies, comm.thingies, Net.thingies and so forth. The general public doesn't know about the technology, since it tends to warp reality slightly around it and generate hazardous situations. Which makes it ideal for use by net.heroes, but not by industry. There's even a thingy.thingy in my Gauntlet of GIF, but I don't think it's enough to do that job," cursed Sig.Lad. "Wait, I was studying thingy.thingies recently," noted Squidman, "don't they run on drama?" "I think so...." "Well, we're so close to the source of drama that one should be enough." "Okay, but how do we...." "Uh-oh," interrupted Kid Macro, who was using the sensors to scan the ground below. "Doesn't that look like Sidewinder to you?" Everyone clustered around the viewscreen. Sure enough, Sidewinder was riding a motorcycle below them, heading towards a Compuserve building where a small knot of workers was heading out for lunch. "Magnify grid seven-A, KM," blurted Sig.Lad. The workers were enlarged on the screen. One of them looked very familiar to several of the net.heroes. "That's Tymythy Twystyd!" gasped Kid Macro. "No, it's another alt.version...Mark Friedman, I think Netlurker called him. He must be the target! And there's no time to stop Sidewinder!" shouted Squidman. Cheeez Arrow moved towards the exit, grabbing his bow. "What do you think you're doing?" asked Sig.Lad. "Look, we don't have time to argue. I can make this shot, disable Sidewinder's motorcycle or...do *something*." Squidman looked at one of the readout screens. "No can do, Stan. The Plot Bubble's shrunk to be almost skintight on the Zeppelin. You step out, you're a goner. The penguin's probably keeping it that far at bay." "Gimme the bow, CA. The thingy.thingy in my Gauntlet might let me survive out there." "But you're not an expert in the bow. Give me the Gauntlet." WHAP! Suddenly Cheeez Arrow slumped to the deck, and Squidman stood behind him. "Take the bow, Sig.Lad." "Why did you do that?" "Let's just say I think you're more dramatically correct. It'll take a miracle, and that's more likely to happen if the conflict comes down to you and Acton Lord directly...more drama, more improbability. Now GO!" Sig.Lad grabbed the bow and one arrow, pulling the Cheeez head off to reduce the chance of it warping out. He stepped out the top of the CheeeZeppelin and stood there in the whipping wind, feeling a vague tingling over his body as the Static Plot Bubble stretched to hold him. Below, tiny like dots, the motorcycle approached Friedman. Sig.Lad carefully drew. And fired the arrow. * * * * Here. It is here that something will happen. Sidewinder knew it in his very soul. This seemingly insignificant parking lot, that scraggly-looking man heading to his car. Sidewinder had to meet this man. A small, nagging part of him wondered *why* he had to meet this man. He didn't know the guy, he didn't know anyone in this reality. He'd never felt so obsessed before. But the obsession overrode his suspicions. He got off his Harley and walked towards the man. One of the man's companions noticed Sidewinder. "Hey, cute outfit. Sew it yourself?" Sidewinder ignored him. He wasn't important. His goal looked at him, and looked a bit worried. "Hey, you looking for me? Waitaminnit...that belt buckle. LNH. Dave sent you, didn't he?" chuckled the man. Sidewinder started to grab for the man. An arrow struck the pavement between the two and splintered. The others jumped back, looked up for the possible source. Sidewinder was startled out of his mania. "What...what was I doing here? Who are you, anyway?" He shook his head to clear it. Suddenly there was a flash of green and a faint scream of "No! I won't be thwarted now!" The ground heaved, tossing Sidewinder and the stranger towards each other.... * * * * <> thought Kat as she lurked through the underground warrens of Andale Atoll. <> The most advanced technology in the place was taken from RoboMAC technology, and while better than almost anything in this ancient past dimension, it still was far less than the state of the art Kat was used to. It was hard not to get cocky and play games with the defense systems. But she knew that the fate of at least one universe rested on this...and since she was currently living in that universe it behooved her to do this right. And fast. She'd lost enough time hacking into the LNHQ computers to remotely activate the tele.thingies to send her here, and if Acton Lord was as close to completion as Netlurker had feared...well, she had to haul robotic ass. At times she really, REALLY hated magic. It was unpredictable and as something not native to her reality she couldn't really get her head around it. Or her sensors. But this time it worked in her favor. She knew Acton Lord was using some mage to help in his plan, and magic always did odd things to her sensors, like standing in a steambath did to sight. But now it was like looking for a distant steambath with IR sensors...where it was the oddest, she went that way. And that way was down. Deep into the roots of the island, below where even the Gradgnomes were comfortable. She slipped invisibly past the moronically stupid ComBots Acton Lord had stationed outside this room, even managed to override their sensors so that they never saw the door open and shut. The cavern was as large as it was hot. At the center stood a lone figure, looking like he was just about to enter a complicated looking array of technological and mystical devices. Kat expanded to her full size as she recognized the figure. "Hold it right there, Trenchcoat. I don't know what lies Acton Lord fed you to get you to come along on this scheme, but I can't let you go through with it." The Green Trenchcoat stood still, adopting his usual air of impassive calm. "And what exactly do you think I'm about to do?" "Look," Kat started, assuming that Green Trenchcoat was sufficiently filled in on events that she wouldn't have to completely recap the first section of the issue for him, "We know you're working with Acton Lord to cut the Writers off from the Looniverse, and that he's using your power to prevent a loss of life energy...as happened in your home universe. But that's going to doom the Looniverse to domination by the villains! Way too many of these net.heroes depend on writer-engineered coincidences and deus ex machinas in order to triumph." "Then those heroes can retire and make way for those of us who don't need such foolishness," countered the Earth Mage. Kopikat shook her head. "It doesn't work that way, GT. This isn't like my homeworld, where the forces are roughly balanced. The villains really do have overwhelming advantage...it's to cause drama, I suppose. Remove the writer from even one seemingly minor plot device, and all reality can fall!" Green Trenchcoat's calm seemed to crack slightly. "And who do you suppose *gave* the villains such overwhelming superiority? The writers! They play with our lives for the sake of an evening's entertainment. Think...have you ever suffered a great loss, but one which was undoubtedly dramatic in nature?" Kat paused, having suffered not one but many such losses. But the Occult Hero didn't let up. "The writers set themselves up as arbiters of fate. Not content to leave us to make our own destinies, or to at least ride the waves of a more impersonal fate, they cruelly twist events to make them more 'interesting.' There's an old oriental curse, 'May you live in interesting times.' The writers make sure we do. Perhaps things would be less interesting without the writers, but I'm willing to gamble that they'd be better than a world forced to die merely for a plot point!" The Green Trenchcoat's tone had been steadily increasing, but now it reached a thunderous intensity. "Those bastards watched my world die and all they could do was applaud my writer for being so bloody clever!" Kat again paused, carefully considering the Green Trenchcoat's words. Memory banks were activated, processors she hadn't used fully in some time were pressed to their limits. "I don't believe that, and neither do you," she finally said. "Sure, you've suffered terribly, and you think that your writer's responsible for that. But this isn't about making things right, it's about revenge." The trenchcoater's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You don't know anything about me, we've hardly even met before this." "I know you're really a woman," Kat smirked. "Wasn't all that hard to tell, really, I had that pegged the first time I saw you...your body's male, but your body language is very female, even though you try to hide it." "Y-you're mistaken," Green Trenchcoat started, but she sensed that Kopikat was not bluffing. Somehow she *knew*! "No, I'm not. Furthermore, you're over 20 and younger than, oh...50. You've loved and lost, and tried to shut out all emotion to avoid being hurt again." "How...?" "I've been living in this body for longer than you've been alive, and one thing you have plenty of as a RoboMAC is thinking time. Time to analyze all the things your safeguards won't let you forget. And as a mercenary for much of my life, I've found that spending that time learning how to analyze body language time well spent. Knowing when you're about to be betrayed is *very* important. But along the way you pick up just about everything else. Most MACs learn how to tell the scans from the scratches. Scans being humans who were scanned into artificial minds, scratches being personas built from scratch. And since Robo bodies tend to be neuter in appearance, picking up gender clues is important for socializing. I may not have needed my talents as much recently, what with all the simple morality and silliness around me, but I still have them. And just watching you and listening to you for a few minutes has told me more about you than you've told anyone else, I'd wager." Green Trenchcoat sighed and seemed to collapse inward, as she shifted back into her true form. "Sometimes others see the truth from the outside better than we can see it in ourselves. Perhaps I was motivated more by revenge than altruism, as you say. Perhaps that blinded me in part to Acton Lord's ulterior motives...oh, I did see them, but I discounted them as less important." "So, I don't have to cut you up to stop you from getting into that thing?" "Unfortunately, unless you have time travel power, that's impossible. You see, I wasn't getting in as you arrived, I was getting out. It's too late, the plan has already been put into motion. The writers are no longer able to influence us. But for what time remains to this world, I am willing to take responsibility for my actions." She then transformed once more into her alter ego, the Green Trenchcoat. "Having gotten what he wanted, I doubt Acton Lord will seriously hinder you should you wish to remove me from here." Kopikat drew back a claw as if to cut Green Trenchcoat in half, then stopped. Again she was too late to prevent a disaster...and she knew from the first time that vengeance doesn't bring back the dead.... Linking into the tele.thingy controls, she transported both to the LNHQ. * * * * Scene: Tollins Building. A store, mysteriously labelled, "T and M's Little Shop of Horrors"... You know those convenience stores that you always seem to visit on accident? Like when you're *really* drunk and need to chow on some munchies but all you can find open is the local Stop-n-Stuff. So you get a bag of Cheez-Kurls, a pound of spacom on rye, and three limes wrapped in aluminum foil that you always forget the reason for as soon as you get out of the door... Well, this place is nothing like that... Flipping through mail: flipflipflipflip... "Junk...junk...junk...cool!" Tym held up a letter, "Another order!" He sliced it open with an opener and read it... Funny how his tongue-in-cheek hobby of knitting, originally designed to be a display of his bored existentialist detachment from this foreign far future year of 2994, had come into popular demand: now it seemed that everyone wanted a Mobius scarf or a Klein bottle hat, these days... Busy busy busy...and if the knitting weren't enough, in came a customer. The thin, red-haired man looked around the mostly-empty shop tentatively as he made his way to the counter where Tym had his feet propped up. "Kin I hep ya, sir?" Tym grinned Cheshirely: boy, how he loved to freak the mundanes... A slow nod. "Well...yes. What--" A blink as the wording of the question is rethought. "What exactly do you *do* here?" Tym smiled and pointed to the card affixed to the inside pane of a window that read, `.oC gnivoM lanoisnemidretnI dna eyd-eyT' The customer blinked and reversed the letters in his head, then repeated aloud, "Tye-dye and Interdimensional Moving Co.?" "Yeah!" Tym grinned, "I can tye-dye anything." He pointed to the old flak jacket that he insisted on always wearing (labeled "NSSA" on one patch), which was improbably tye-dyed. "Did this. I could do your whole couch...or your dog...or hell, I even tye-dyed my wife's hair once..." A confused blink. "Well...I...it's...interesti--" "GAH!" Tym winced and brought his hands to his temples. "What's wrong?" He blinked. "Ummm...I...I'm not sure. For a second there, I felt like I was being pulled in a million directions at once..." The customer quirked an eyebrow, "Curious...why would that be, do you think?" Tym smirked, "I don't know for a sure, but I have a pretty good idea..." He stood from his stool behind the counter and hopped a few steps to look into the door to the back room to yell, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE *THIS* TIME, MARY!?!?" * * Tif stomped into the house, not happy at all, dropping her attache case beside the door with a satifying . David popped out of the kitchen on hearing the noise, followed by the sweet scent of long, slow cooked onions. He blinked upon seeing her apparent mood and quietly greeted her, "Hi, love." He smiled and held his arms open for her, chuckling softly. She staggered in a parody of the walking dead, into his arms to leannnn against him, and he hugged her close and tight. She purrred softly at the comfort and warmth his arms provided. He kissed her on the hair. "Bad day?" Tif nodded slowly and nuzzled against his shoulder. "Being `Tiffany Bose: Corporate Megabitch' is a job anna half," she sighed. David stroked firm and warm down her back, and just nodded above her. "Ooops," she realised, pointing down to her feet, "Boots." He knelt before her, taking one boot in his hands. Tif smiled and scruffled his hair: "Just where I like ya: good boy..." He chuckled softly and shivered just a touch. She leaned into him, hands on his back to keep her balance (and kneading his muscles a bit). He tugged the boot hard to pull it off, then the other. Tif flexed her toes and sighed, "Ahhhh...better." David worked his way up from his kneeling position by gently kneading her calves and then thighs. When she purrred and swooned a little, closing her eyes, he chuckled just a touch wickedly as he got up into the oh-so-corp strict skirt... Tif giggled and batted playfully at his hands. "Later, love: gimmie a hug for now..." He grinned just a touch and stood to hug her close, with her sighing and melting into his arms, holding her warm and close... Then she blinkblinked her eyes wide open and shuddered noticably, half-wincing. She brought a hand up to her temple: "Wow...that was weird..." David quirked an eyebrow and ran a hand across her cheek in concern. "What was it, dearheart?" He stroked her hair back gently. She blinked. "Hunh. I'm not quite sure. Just suddenly had this sort of oogie feeling...like hives in the lungs or something..." David's eyes widened just a touch, and he shivered sympathetically at the description. He watched her uncertainly for a moment... Tif shook it off and then smiled at him as she stroked his back. "Whatever, eh? It's gone now. Dinner?" David nodded and interlaced a hand with hers. "Dinner." She smiled and squeezed his hand in return as they walked towards the kitchen. * * "This sucks." The bearded, regal-looking man quirked an eyebrow. "`Sucks'?" Tym nodded. "Yeah. It sucks. It bites, it blows, it chungs, it swallows. `It does not agree with my delicate sensibilities.'" The man furrowed his brow. "Which are you talking about?" Tym spread his arms, "This place. This castle. For one..." He warpled his H&K 9mm to his hand and pointed it an inch away from the old man's temple. He pulled the trigger: . "For one, my gun doesn't work..." A sigh and the roll of old green eyes, "We told you about this already: the particular laws of reality become less malleable as you approach Castle Amber..." "Zactly!" Tym laughed and waved his arms about, "It sucks! I'm used to defining my own laws of physics!" Fingers brushed calmly through grey hair. "I suppose it does...`suck', then. However, let's put all of that aside and proceed..." Tym shrugged and put the gun back in his jacket. "Whatever, eh? I got a hockey game to go to..." Another sigh, then a throat cleared: "Tym, son of--" "GAH!" Tym winced and brought his hands to his temples. "What's wrong?" A few blinks. "Ummm...I...I'm not sure. For a second there, I felt like I was being pulled in a million directions at once..." The old man stroked his beard, "Curious..." Tym shrugged it off and grinned. "Whatever, eh? Let's get on with this li'l dog and pony show..." The old man was determined to finish this time and spoke quickly: "Tym, son of Brand, are you prepared to walk the Pattern?" Tym blinked. "Ummm...why walk?" He opened a hole in space and prepared to step inside, "All I gotta do is warple to the center, and--" "NO, TYM! WAIT--" * * "This sucks." The other guy raised an eyebrow and looked up from the school newpaper. "What sucks?" Tym held up the purple Barney costume: "What do you *think* I mean, Howie-mon?" Howie Henderson grinned and tossed the paper aside. "Well, *you're* the one that signed up for that gig." "Hrmph. I only did it 'cuz I was short on cash..." "And that's because you've *lost* just about every job you've taken because of your daydreaming..." Tym furrowed his brow, "It's more than daydreaming. It *has* to be. It's almost *real*..." "No it doesn't!" Howie ran his fingers through his hair, "*This* is the reality that you have to cope with, Mr. Metaphysics Major! *This* is where you have to pay your bills and go to classes. You're not this `Tymythy Twystyd' superhero guy. What you *are* is the guy that fell asleep, daydreaming at the fry-vat at McDonalds and got his ass *fired*!" Tym got the point and could only grumble. "Thusly, you gotta take the work where you can get it." "Yeah, yeah: thanks for the speech, Dad." He rolled his eyes. Howie shrugged, "Whatever, eh? Just so long as you pay your half of the rent, I don't care whether you're the Barney at the local Wal-Mart or not." "Hrmph. I dunno if I can take it anymore. Not that it was that bad at first..." "Oh?" "Yeah...like, it *does* pay well enough (cuz nobody wants to do it, of course). And Barney was pretty obscure at that time, right?" Howie nodded and shrugged, "Guess so..." "But then he got hip real fast, and all the kids loved the insipid piece of shit to pieces. And the came the media exposure, and other people started *hating* him with a passion..." Howie raised his hand. "Guilty," he grinned. "Yah. Zactly. So, not only did I have to put up with little snot-nosed kids kicking me in the shins when they were feeling bratty, but I hadda deal with everyone *else* in society totally hating my guts..." "Well, technically, they hate *Barney's* guts..." Tym glowered at his roommate. "`Technically', I've had people chase me with baseball bats, *remember*!?!?" "Oh yeah," Howie grinned wryly, "But the police took care of that little matter..." "And what about the Jihad?" "Hrmmm, well, there's that little problem..." "Little problem!?!?" He threw the costume aside and flapped his arms wildly, "LITTLE PROBLEM!?!?" Howie shrugged, "Well, they *did* give you the new teflon/kevlar model of the costume, right?" Grumble. "Well...yeah...but..." "And not *one* of those drive-by shootings has tagged you yet, right?" Mumble. "Well...yeah...but..." "So what's the big deal, Tym? This little `Jihad Against Barney' will blow over in no time at all. Besides, Barney's ratings are in the shitter..." Tym sighed, "Yeah...well...guess I'll be out--" He cut off in mid-sentence, blinkblinked his eyes wide open and shuddered noticably, half-wincing. He brought a hand up to his temple: "Wow...that was weird..." Howie quirked an eyebrow, "You're not into that bad acid again, are you? Sheesh: I thought you kicked that after Freshman year..." "No, no!" He rubbed his eyes, "This felt nothing like a bad trip..." "Hrmmmm...then what was it, then?" He blinked. "Hunh. I'm not quite sure. Just suddenly had the sort of oogie feeling...like hives in the lungs or something..." Howie made a face and shivered sympathetically at the description. He watched Tym uncertainly for a moment... Tym shook it off and sighed. "Whatever, eh? It's gone now. And I'd better bust a move or I'm gonna be late..." "Yeah. Heh. And just remember: keep your head down and *always* run serpentine!" * * "Yo, Bose! I'm talkin' to ya!" * * "Hey, Tim, what's wrong, you look kinda strange. More than usual, that is." * * "Timmy?" * * TIMtymTimothyTIMMY TYMtimm Tymythy Timmy Tymmy TymythyTIMtimmytim TinyTIM timtimt tiffany timmyti tymy thytimmyTYMti mtimcherr eeaboseis asme ssedupasm esse dupcanbe TYMM Mr.B oseTymm yTIM TIMM Tymy thyd udeoidT immy crac ksku llandId on't care TYMT YMTYMTY MTYM TYM! * * * * The Static Plot Bubble collapsed with such swiftness that all aboard the Zeppelin blacked out, with the exception of Cheeez Arrow, who was already unconscious, and the Penguin of Goon. But the Penguin couldn't...or wouldn't...say what happened in the intervening time, so when the others awoke it was to confusion. "Did we beat the badguys again?" muttered Kid Macro, sounding slightly hung over and holding his head in his hands. "I don't know...wait, how'd I get inside the Zeppelin?" asked Sig.Lad. "Last I remember, I'd fired the arrow and everyone scattered. Then it all went black." "No clue. Maybe when the Plot Bubble collapsed you got sucked inside first, when your thingy.thingy-created blister collapsed. Anyway, we seem to be in the Looniverse, if these sensor readings are right," said Squidman. "That is correct," said Netlurker, stepping from the shadows. "Gah! Don't DO that!" gasped Rotanna. "Well, did we win?" asked Kid Macro. "Yes and no. You people failed to stop the plan, Acton Lord simply used his power to force Sidewinder into Mark by creating a small gravity corruption. But...." "We were just a diversion, weren't we?" asked Squidman. "Essentially, yes. Acton Lord expected someone to oppose him, and if no obvious attempt was made to stop him, he'd be very suspicious. So you tried, and failed, and Acton Lord created his infinite string of realities." To punctuate his words, Netlurker pulled a string out of his pocket and held it between his outstretched arms. "You seem too pleased. Were you really working for him the whole time?" demanded Sig.Lad. "Not at all. I knew that sooner or later, Acton Lord would manage to succeed in this. He could be delayed, but not stopped. And the more he was delayed, the harder it would be to prevent the Dire Consequences, since he'd be more paranoid, looking more carefully at his plans for flaws. So now he thinks he's succeeded, but in 'reality' he hasn't. Oh, he has his string," Netlurker held up the string, "but it's not doing quite what he wanted. Instead of pushing the two ends apart, it just did this." Netlurker took the two ends and tied them together. "I was able to take advantage of the amplified and corrupted Bose Effect to twist the whole thing into a knot. Acton Lord sees the string, but he's not looking for the knot. If he weren't opposed at all, he might get suspicious and look for a knot, but he's...knot." * * * * EPILOGUE: "So, that's it? We save the Looniverse and no one gets to know about it?" asked Kid Macro. "Well, it's one of those common comicbook plot devices: The World Is Saved, But Only Stays Saved If No One Knows It Was. Eventually the 'knot' will become too strong to 'cut,' but if Acton Lord finds out he really failed he might cut it sooner," explained Sig.Lad. "And since this issue is nearly two months behind in continuity, all we have to do is not say anything to anyone about it until next issue or later, let continuity catch up. So it's not quite that bad. If we end this issue now, Acton Lord won't be able to do anything until it's too late for him to do it." "Wait, what about Green Turncoat?" asked Kopikat. "That's up to his Writer, although whatever happens, Green Trenchcoat probably won't go telling Acton Lord about it before the deadline. The LNH knows GT worked with Acton Lord on something, but don't know what it was. He at least agreed not to tell them yet." "Right. And the LNH has agreed not to force the issue yet, you have at least that much clout, Sig...YOWP!" Squidman felt a burning sensation and twisted around to see a grinning Cheeez Arrow holding his bow. "Payback," smirked the archer. Squidman looked down to see corrosive cheeez eating away at the back of his costume, revealing... THE END ========================================================================= Author's Notes: The four long sections with variant Tyms in them were written by Mark Friedman, and each has a story behind it. The first is how Tymythy Twystyd was played on LegionMUSH last year, being an alternate version of the Raiders Universe one which suffered a bit of a mishap and got stuck in 2994 New Earth. He decided to stay for a while, since if he could find a way back to 1994, he could probably make it back to the exact time he left. Mary Xao (later Mary Xao-Bose) was a fairly infamous character on LegionMUSH who Tym hung around with a lot (doing no good to his image in the eyes of some of the wizzes, who didn't care for Mary...or Tym's basic concept, for that matter). She was a member of the Church of the Grateful Dead, and got kicked out of the SPs. Mark has this to say about the second version, Tiffany Bose: "Oh, and David (Li) in the Tif bit was written by Liralen Li in a little thing we do on the side of our alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo stuff. Give her a nod for it, since that scene was adapted from something we wrote together..." Nod given. The third Tym is obviously an Amber character, based on an Amber RPG campaign Mark was in. The final Tym's scene is actually pretty close to something that happened in a Raiders session. Lord Ebon visited nightmares on each of the Raiders, and what you see above was Tym's. The stuff about the Jihad wasn't part of the original session, since it wasn't really around then, a year ago. At least not in modern form. Other Tyms not included are Ensign Bose of the Federation, Tim Bose the Vampire, and various alt.versions not named Tim (such as Klone Krimson or Netlurker).