DVANDOM _____ ______ _____ _______ THE CENTURY PACT PART 7 of 12 [ ]__ [ ] [] [ ]__)) [ ] ` [ ]__ #79 - "Seeds of The New Age" [ ] [ ] [] [ ] \\ [ ] [ ] copyright 1997 Dave Van Domelen [_] [_]__[] [_] \\ [_]___/ [_]____ -------]==+ <*> +==[------- [cover shows Dvandom Force deliberately destroying Sig.ago while horrified normal people look on from below.] Sally knew she was dreaming, and not really walking down the streets of Sig.ago, because things were wrong. Well, she corrected herself, not *wrong* exactly. After all, the city was clean, free of homeless people and visible signs of crime, the breeze was gentle instead of the normal punishing winds of late winter, and things were generally quite nice. So, no, "wrong" wasn't the word for it. Different. Strange. But not *wrong.* Once she got over the strangeness of a clean and safe city, Sally noticed something else...different. She didn't quite recognize the city streets she walked on. Sure, she could see things in the distance which were familiar...bits of the elevated Hacker Drive between buildings, the odd appearance of the LAN.cock Building, and so forth. But the buildings nearby didn't quite have the familiar ring of the rest of the city she lived in. Then it hit her. She was in the net.hero district. Panic gripped her for a moment, as her mind conjured up visions of falling masonry and battling robots that characterized the net.hero district of a big city. Some people liked the economic opportunities to be gained in those dangerous parts of town, but Sally had always taken her mother's advice and stayed well clear of the net.heroes, even after the net.heroes had officially left Sig.ago itself months ago. When several seconds passed and nothing disastrous happened, she realized that the buildings were all in undamaged, pristine condition. No uneven patchwork to fill holes left by fights, no cracked pavement with cones and police tape around it. It was as if net.heroes had never come to Sig.ago. It was like a paradise on Earth, she realized for reasons that she couldn't quite explain. She walked over to a news vendor, with a clean and uncramped booth and friendly attendant. The headline of the hardcopy edition of the Sig.ago SunStation proclaimed, "WORLD CELEBRATES TEN YEARS OF PEACE!" The date was March 12, 2011. It was too good to be true. Utopia within her lifetime? It had to be a dream, reality was never so good. Maybe the net.heroes finally did something right for a change? The moment she thought of net.heroes, the sky darkened. Sally turned around and saw cratered pavement and crazily leaning skyscrapers. Some fires continued to burn. What had happened? She looked back to the newspaper she held in her hands, now a single page broadsheet blearily printed on grey paper. "NET.HEROES PROMISE SWIFT END TO RECENT TROUBLES" the headline seemed to sigh. The date was still March 12, 2011, but she could see that it had once read 2001, and been printed over. Similarly, throughout the article, current dates had been written in by hand over much older dates. Looking up into the gray sky, she saw a fleet of Flight.Thingies ominously cruising overhead, sweeping their searchlights over the nearly abandoned streets. A searchlight blinded her, and suddenly she was sitting bolt upright in bed, sweating like she'd been in a sauna all night, yet still feeling a deep chill. What did it all mean? -------]==+ <*> +==[------- "Ohhhh, I've got a headache in my whole body," Sidewinder groaned as he limped into the kitchen of the country mansion Dvandom Force currently called home. Most of the team was already there, and a pot of coffee was brewing on the counter. "Join the club," Anna mumbled. "Whatever our friend was doing to our dreams played merry hob with our neurotransmitters and general mental wellness level." "Like being kicked in the head without the opportunity to kick back," Kat added, grabbing a mug of coffee and slurping it down, wincing as she forgot to take the heat into account. Doug offered Squidman a mug, but the team leader shook his head. "Never cared for the stuff, I'll cope," he replied, and Doug handed the mug to Sidewinder instead. "Oh, we can kick back all right. As soon as my head clears enough, I'm going back in and figuring out where in the waking world this turkey's operating from. Then we can all go and thank him," Anna muttered ominously. Kid Pocky stepped into the kitchen, a little bleary-eyed from having his sleep interrupted, but nowhere near the wreck everyone else was. "Hi, guys." Squidman held up a finger and started to speak. "You...." He paused. "How...?" He sighed. "Never mind. I suppose I should be grateful one of us was able to break free enough to clear us all out." "Maybe Squidman'll leave it for later, but I can't," Anna interjected. "How come you ended up in Purgatori.org, with a chance at getting out, while the rest of us got guided tours of Hell(TM)?" "Trademark's back," VAXX noted as he played with the toaster. "Well, I dunno, really. Maybe a better question would be, why were all of you in Hell(TM), not why I wasn't," Kid Pocky shrugged. Doug stopped rubbing his eyes for a moment and looked up. "Well, I think the key thing was guilt. Except for Lynk, who just got stuck down in an appropriate location when she entered the dream, we were getting tormented by our own guilt trips. I don't know where VAXX ended up, but I'd bet it wasn't anywhere in Hell(TM), since he has no angst." "I'm a happy little bird," the VAXX confirmed. "And I haven't been active as Kid Pocky long enough to pick up the writer's usual slathering of angsty backstory...he's been too busy redefining you since my appearance to really work me over," Al replied to Doug. "Makes sense, I guess," Squidman admitted. "Who'd have thought lack of character development would be a GOOD thing?" Kat just stared into her coffee. Every time she looked at Kid Pocky tonight, his body language practically screamed that he was lying, that he was hiding something. But it also screamed that he loved her deeply, deeply enough to give up Heaven for her if the dream was a reflection of his true intentions. She knew that if she were to call him on the one, he'd know she saw the other. And either way, before saying anything, she'd have to decide how she felt about the kid. Besides, she had enough skeletons in her closet without rummaging around in his. So she stayed silent and avoided meeting Kid Pocky's gaze. Picking up the creamer, she dumped half of it into her coffee, ostensibly to cool it off. But really so she couldn't see her reflection in it anymore.... -------]==+ <*> +==[------- The D-Star soared over the darkened streets of Sig.ago. While no city ever completely shut down, even a big city like Sig.ago was relatively quiet at four in the morning. "You sure, Lynk?" Squidman asked as he manuevered the D-Star through the fairly light winds of the early morning sky. "Yep. Scenes Tower. Makes sense, too, if his power is more electrochemical than mystical, as our hangovers attest to. He'd want to get as high as possible to have clear shots at the most people possible." "Damn," Squidman spat. He didn't like being around the Scenes Tower, it was a reminder of one of his more spectacular goofups, letting the FireTsar Robo be thrown into the penthouse apartment there and crushing the man within [Dvandom Force #58 - Ed.]. A man he'd since learned had been turned into the cyborg Coppermane and sought revenge on the team [Dvandom Force #74 - Ed.]. As he brought the D-Star in closer, everyone could see that the penthouse had been rebuilt by the new owners. On the way over, Squidman had rechecked the records on the building, on the chance that Coppermane still owned it and was using it as a front for another, more baroque revenge plot, but it had been bought out by another company months ago. And the current rental residents had no connection to Van Runt Enterprises either. Which meant a new threat. Terrific. "Okay, I want to do this as quietly as possible. We haven't been too popular since last time we trashed this building, so if we can avoid a knock down drag out fight, that'd be great. Doug, you think you can do a high speed recon?" Squidman asked. "Sure. I've been practicing with these sonar 'bumpers' Kat built me, I should be able to get in and out without smashing any walls." "Good. If it's just one mentalist, he'll probably be too busy maintaining the dreamwarp to fight back until we've bagged him. But in case he has allies, be ready to make it a real fight. Doug, head on in," Squidman said, punching the button to put the D-Star on autohover and opening the door. "Wait..." Lynk started as Doug ran out the door. Doug flew right back in the door, bouncing against the crash padding inside the cockpit. Outside was Aurora, the supposedly mind-locked RoboMAC, standing protectively over a fairly normal-looking man. "...the dreamwarp just ended," Lynk finished. "Come on out to play, net.heroes!" the figure spat. "This close in, you don't need to be asleep to enjoy the full effect of my powers, and no one's going to enjoy this more than I will." "Everyone, remember that this is just an illusion, it can only hurt you if you believe it can," Squidman whispered. "Not necessarily," Lynk replied. "If his control is neurochemical in nature, it might not matter what we consciously believe, he could make us feel the pain anyway." "Now she tells us," Doug muttered as he stood up. "He doesn't seem to have any helpers, let's rush him! Someone's bound to get through!" Sidewinder shouted, flying out the door. Squidman winced and then followed, along with the rest of the team. When they got out the door, Sidewinder was already being swatted over the horizon. His arc was oddly slow, as if he were deliberately flying under his own power instead of being flung through the air...which is exactly what was happening. Aurora, after all, wasn't really there. "This is too easy," the man sneered. "I'm just one man, and here I am beating you people like rented mules. I control the vertical, I control the horizontal, and for the next eternity you'll be the guest of the Divine Comedian in a Hell(TM) of your own devising! "I don't think so," Kid Pocky said, leaping at the Divine Comedian in a spinning side-kick, only to be blasted by Aurora and fall dazed next to the mentalist. "So much for the theory that beating the dream made him totally immune to the guy's powers," Doug observed. "This is pointless," Squidman sighed. "Minesweeper!" he shouted, tossing down a handful of ink bombs from his utility belt. Darkness covered the rooftop, deeper than the darkest night. Everyone dropped to the ground flat except for Macroman, who started moving about at high speed. "I may not be able to fool your sight in this blackness, net.heroes, but I can still control your other senURGH!" There was a sickening crunch of fist meeting bone followed by the thump of flesh hitting concrete. Moments later, when the wind had dispersed the inky darkness, Squidman stood to see the Divine Comedian unconscious on the deck of the penthouse. Doug stepped over the body and grinned as he took his helmet off. "Good thing he didn't know about the sonar units. Hooked into my artificial nervous system, they acted as an extra sense he wasn't controlling, and once I couldn't SEE Aurora, I couldn't bounce off him." Kat nodded. "Those things aren't much use for replacing sight, but if you know the only thing standing is okay to hit, just replace 'avoid' with 'hit' and you're in business." Squidman looked around as Sidewinder woozily set down on the roof. "There's no one else here. Either no one was supposed to find this guy...." "Or he was being hung out to dry," Kat finished the sentence. "I mean, even some normal guys with guns would have been devastating here, shooting us when we couldn't tell real from dream...the less-protected of us would be bleeding to death, thinking it was all an illusion." "It doesn't fit. And I don't like that," Squidman snarled. -------]==+ <*> +==[------- "At the top of our news tonight are the strange dreams shared by most of the residents of the Midwest last night. What do they mean? What caused them, or who? How will the almost universally bad impression of net.heroes in these dreams affect local net.hero team Dvandom Force? First up we have Mona Hayes, with the results of a SunStation/Diallup poll conducted today." "Thanks, Chet. In two polls today, one local and one national, we asked people their overall opinion of net.heroes. We found that nationally, the approval rating for net.heroes in general has dropped twenty points from this time last year, to a rating of sixty-seven percent." A bar graph came on the screen: Approve: XXXXXXXXXXXXX 67% Disapprove: XXXXX 26% No Opinion: XX 7% Error: +/- 3% "Locally, the results are even more telling, with net.hero approval ratings sinking to a mere fifty-two percent, the lowest since tracking polls of this issue started being taken." The bar graph shifted: Approve: XXXXXXXXXX 52% Disapprove: XXXXXXXXX 48% No Opinion: 0% Error: +/- 5% "Most interesting is how the issue seems to have polarized Sig.ago, with virtually no one expressing 'No Opinion' in the poll. Of course, Sig.agoans have always been an opinionated lot, but last night's shared dreams certainly must be contributing to this. Back to you, Chet, this is Mona Hayes for Superstation 9." "Thanks, Mona. As anyone who was asleep last night knows, it was an evening for very vivid dreams. Most of these dreams were of a perfect future of some sort, one which would not come to pass if net.heroes remained a part of our daily life. Most reports of these dreams seem to be focused on an area within about four hundred miles of Sig.ago, which has some speculating that, due to their nature, the dreams are actually part of a net.villain plot. We have with us Dr. Paid Spokesscientist from the Institute for Appearing On News Shows. Doctor, what do you say about the possibility that this is a precursor to some sort of net.villain attack?" A virtual screen popped up behind the anchorman, with the image of a respectable-looking scientist on it. The window grew to fill the screen, with the anchorman now appearing in a small corner box. "Well, Chet, given the recent history of our nation, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that a net.villain is trying to use our dreams against us, to make us drive out our protectors. But I personally doubt it. If there's one thing we do know about most powerful menaces to the Loonited States, it's that they just aren't that subtle. We'd already be seeing robotic troops or flying deathmachines by now if this were a net.villain attack." "Then what is causing this localized dream effect? Dvandom Force claims it to be the work of a man calling himself the Divine Comedian, who is currently in custody, but they can't provide proof." "I believe it is a form of traumatic stress syndrome, caused by the anxiety of living in proximity to highly volatile net.hero groups for an extended period of time. Not the actions of some putative net.villain." "Why haven't we seen this sort of thing in Net.ropolis, Doctor? After all, they have far more net.heroes, and have had them for a longer time." "Precisely why we don't see it there, actually. Net.ropolis has long been a hotbed of net.hero activity, stretching back fifty, maybe sixty years or more. People live there by choice, knowing what they are getting into. The residents of Net.ropolis have much better mechanisms for coping with this sort of stress than the general population has. Most of the residents of the Midwest have spent most of their lives in a net.hero-lacking environment, and to suddenly have two significant net.hero groups active in the area has pushed ordinary people beyond their breaking points. I believe the reason for the synchronized dreaming is that the pressure on our local collective unconscious has become too strong." "Collective unconscious, Doctor Spokesscientist? Isn't that genetic?" "No, the most common misconception about the collective unconscious is that it is something we are born with, and which never changes during our lifetime. But it wouldn't be very collective if that were the case, yes? Instead, it is a sort of primal link between all humans in a community, and when an idea reaches 'critical mass,' so to speak, it imbeds itself in the collective unconscious. Just like fear of dark places entered our collective unconscious ages ago, so now fear of net.heroes may be doing the same thing. Only, perhaps, this fear is more justified than simple fear of the dark, yes?" "Well, thank you Doctor Spokesscientist. We're going to break for commercial now, but when we return, an in depth assessment of the costs Illi.net pays to host a net.hero team, and are they worth the benefits? Plus, Mark Dante, the alleged Divine Comedian...crazed net.villain, or innocent scapegoat?" -------]==+ <*> +==[------- Squidman turned the TV off in disgust. "If this *is* part of a plot to discredit net.heroes, it's working. The police are set to release Dante at the end of his 24 hours, since there's no evidence he broke any laws." "It's the Kat Problem all over again," Anna replied, glancing down the hallway to where Kat was sitting alone in her room. "There really isn't much case law regarding mental intrusion, and no legally accepted way to prove it happened short of testimony of a neutral expert witness." "And since all expert witnesses are telepaths and hence either net.heroes or net.villains, there's no neutral ones," Squidman added. "It's all starting to look like there might be a pattern here...various events turning the tide of public opinion against us, maniacs hunting down net.heroes and killing them, old enemies rearing their heads, but it's all so complicated even *I* have a hard time believing it. Some of these things simply *can't* be caused by some shadowy villain, and anyone with the resources to coordinate all of these separate incidents wouldn't need to be subtle, they'd just attack." "Why?" Kid Pocky asked. "I mean, haven't there been other complex, subtle net.villains?" "A few, but they're the exception to the rule. It's the nature of the Looniverse...subtlety need not apply. I mean, I could maybe see this sort of thing from the original Acton Lord, but he's gone and his successor is definitely NOT subtle. Maybe Tsar Chasm, but from reports I hear through the grapevine, he just came back on the scene, and hasn't had time to really gear up for another assault." "Maybe we've been getting spoiled by out encounters with cosmic-level baddies, though," Lynk countered. "A less powerful force would have to be careful, and slow, and subtle, wouldn't it? I mean, Mr. Gain almost managed to pull off a plan to destroy the Looniverse with Spham undetected, only luck and writer's fiat tossed me into his path in time." "Maybe. Maybe..." Squidman mused, not liking the implications of a new breed of thinking villains. -------]==+ <*> +==[------- Dirk turned the TV off in veiled excitement, not being one to display much emotion in any case. Joe was less restrained. "Yeah! We kicked their reputation-butts!" he crowed. "I wouldn't go so far, but the experiment was certainly a success. In one night, net.heroes have suffered a major blow to their public image. Mister Dante has also proven his loyalty to the cause, not saying anything incriminating to the police and sticking very tightly to his cover story. Make sure he's met at the police station by a car to bring him to the airport. We'll fly him out to Phila.Delphi.com tonight and repeat the experience...it should be even more effective now that that city has been primed to dislike net.heroes by the Alt.Riders." "My favorite superteam...hardly have to do anything to make them look bad," Steel sneered. "When do we take on Net.ropolis, though?" "One step at a time. Net.ropolis will be a harder nut to crack. The pap I had fed to the press through Doctor Spokesscientist wasn't all lies, Net.ropolitans are more used to net.heroes. Still, we have sacrificial operatives there who can be used to make the LNH proper think they've found the 'real cause' of the anti-net.hero sentiment if someone gets suspicious too soon. But the more *real* effort we exert there, the greater the odds that one of the few intelligent LNHers will sense something amiss." "Okay, okay, I don't need to hear the whole lecture again. I'll go call for the travel arrangments," Steel sighed as he walked out the door. Darkheart sat in the dimly lit room for another several minutes before a smile slowly spread across his face. Things were going well. Maybe even well enough to satisfy Steelwind's impatience, and definitely faster than optimistic projections had told Darkheart they should. He only hoped he wouldn't get lulled into overconfidence and destroy everything in an ill-considered act, like accepting a viper into their midst. -------]==+ <*> +==[------- He pulled his car off Route 43 just outside RACC.ford Illi.net at a truck stop. His car needed gas, and he needed a bite to eat. He'd been driving all day since news of the strange happenings in the Midwest had hit the national news, and wanted to get into the area as soon as he could. Not Sig.ago itself, he knew that would be too much a hotbed to go near, especially since people still knew him there. Too many questions to answer, too many people he'd left behind. No one important, no, but people who knew him. Or at least thought they did. Still, he had to do something. He walked into the diner and heard the buzz of conversation. Normally talk was subdued in places like this, but tonight it was at the level usually reserved for Superbowl Sunday or Election Night. Wasn't too hard to figure out what people were talking about. He sat down at the counter and ordered a burger and some Mr. Paprika ("Now that's a mysterious viewpoint character's soda!"). While he waited, sipping his drink, he saw someone was making the rounds of the tables, chatting for a few minutes, handing out literature, then moving on. Oddly, the pamphlet-guy wasn't getting the usual hostility or indifference that sort usually got, which immediately piqued his curiosity. The man came over just as a burger was set on the counter next to the half-finished Mr. Paprika. "Hi, you look like a normal enough guy, right?" the man asked. "Yeah, I suppose you could say I look that way," our viewpoint character replied before biting into the burger. "How do you feel about the abnormal guys, the net.heroes?" the man asked. This was it. The sixty four million dollar question, and the opportunity he'd been hoping would come up. He answered, around a mouthful of bun and meat, "Try to avoid them. Nothin' but trouble." The man's smile widened. "What would you say if I told you there might be a way for us normal guys to get rid of them, get some of the old law and order back and get rid of all the vigilante justice we're stuck with?" BINGBINGBING. Warning bells went off in his mind. The rumors he'd been hearing were true. Grassroots organizations with a law and order theme, emphasis on the order part. A song he'd heard way too many variations on in his life. "Sure, where do I sign up?" "Oh, nothing to sign, just a number to call. Here's one of our pamphlets, you might find it interesting, Mister...?" "John Q. Smith. At least, that's what it says on my driver's license," he grinned in a rough and ready way. And he didn't doubt he'd find it interesting.... -------]==+ <*> +==[------- Mark wasn't used to sleeping on planes, he'd mainly been a roadtripping kinda guy back in Detr.alt. But even with his enhanced physique, the last day had been really exhausting, and he found himself drifting off to sleep to the hum of the propellers. Suddenly he found himself on a green hillside, with a sandy beach visible to one side, and sparkling blue waters beyond that. It was the first dream he'd had since the change, he realized. The men had told him he wouldn't need to dream anymore himself, since his enhanced mind could process the day's experiences in realtime, without the need for dreaming. Maybe the last day had been too busy for that, or he lost time while unconscious. Still, it was a lovely dream. "Ahem," said a dulcet voice behind him. He turned around, expecting to see some bikini-clad fantasy to go with the rest of the dream. He was NOT expecting to see a figure barely recognizable as human, let alone female, thanks to being decked out in nightmarish spiked armor and flowing shadows and lightnings. She pointed a wickedly barbed spear at him and darkness just seemed to drip from its point. "We don't appreciate invaders in the dreamlands. The new dreamqueen here is a little inexperienced, so she's having trouble figuring out how to deal with you. I decided to be neighborly and help show her how the Dream Court deals with those who would tamper in our domains...." -------]==+ <*> +==[------- "Sir? We've landed, time to wake up. Sir...?" ============================================================================ Next Issue: John Q. Smith is back, or should we say Shane Boxer, rebel from 2077? But can he infiltrate the ranks of the Century Pact without being discovered and killed...or worse? Plus, things continue to get worse for net.heroes everywhere.... ============================================================================ Author's Notes: This issue has little, if anything, to do with the third book of the Divine Comedy, Paradisio. But that's okay, because Paradisio's supposed to be really boring anyway. John Q. Smith first appeared in Dvandom Force #45, his mind swapped with that of Shane Boxer in an attempt to avert the creation of DeFacto V. It failed. See Dvandom Force #45-48 for more. The Dream Court member seen near the end is not Mason Kramer's Daydream Believer, since I didn't ask or anything. Besides, she's much nicer than that. Usually.