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CrossoverManiac

09-20-2004, 10:36 PM

Metadeliquents: Issue 7
Rita vs. The Animal Kingdom: Beware the wrath of The Tamer
All characters are the intellectual property of Timothy Weaver, alias, Crossover Maniac.

Hillcrest Institute of Animal Behavior

The room has beige walls and ceiling and a thin maroon carpet. Two tables laying side-by-side took up most of the space inside the conference room. Papers were neatly stacked in a pile in front of each of the attendants of the meeting whom were all dressed in business attire. One of them, a rather short man with ratty hair and a large nose who was shorter than anyone else in the conference room, was fidgeting in his chair while nervously shifting through his papers. A man across the room took notice of his nervous co-worker and gave him a barbed smile as he tapped his neighbor’s shoulder and snickered at the man.

“...and for the last item on our agenda,” a woman in a blue business dress with glasses and red hair done in a bun, “concerns the research, and I use this term loosely, of one of our colleges.” The woman looked towards the nervous man. “Noah Pavlov.”

“Yes, Mrs. Darby.” The man who was pointing at Pavlov earlier winked at him and gave Pavlov another barbed smile.

“Mr. Pavlov, do you honestly think that anyone working for this research facility can make outrageous claims of being able to control the will of animals with a push of a button and still keep our credibility.”

“Ma’am, um...well...I have p...p...proof and...” Pavlov stumbled through his explanation as his co-workers giggled at the man’s expense.

“I need more proof than your homemade clips from America’s Stupid Animal Tricks.” Mrs. Darby took a pink piece of paper out of her briefcase. “I’ll be blunt: you’re only here because our generous head of research took pity on you, but that won’t cut it with me. I want you to scrap your project and write a *real* research paper or else lose your job.”

“But I’ve been working on this for years.”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!” Darby screamed at Pavlov. “You got until the end of the month and not a day sooner. This meeting is adjourned.”

Everyone made their way out of the conference room except Noah Pavlov who just sat in his seat covering his face while the others glared at him.

“You might as well start packing,” one man gloated.

It was about 10 pm when Mrs. Darby made her way to the parking lot. It was illuminated in the yellow glow of streetlamps spaced every four parking spots. A mangy light brown dog crawled out from under one of the parked cars. Darby tried to walk around but the dog got back in her way.

Darby swung her briefcase in front of the stray dog. “Shoo! Go away!” Suddenly, the animal’s hair stood up, and it started growling and barking at her. Darby backed away from the dog only to walk into something large and furry. She turned around to see another dog, this time a husky trying to take a bite out of her leg. Darby leaped back and running from both dogs only to be confronted by a pack of snarling canines. Foam poured out of their mouths full of glistering sharp teeth.

“I worked too long for some stuck up wench to ruin my plans.”

“Who said that?” Darby shrieked. Then saw a transmitter on the collar of the first dog. “Noah, is that you?” The pack slowly moved in on Darby. “Alright, I’m convinced. It’s a bit overboard, but you made your point.” The pack crept even closer to Darby. “How about an extra $10,000 in funding?”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a tightwad?” Darby covered her face with her briefcase and screamed as she was buried under the marauding pack of dogs.

Rita got off the school bus and noticed a brand new red compact car parked just outside the garage. “I don’t know anyone who owns a car like this,” thought Rita. “Could it be Jeremy and his bunch trying to get back their teleporter?” She carefully turned the doorknob and cracked the door opened peeking inside. “TJ, I’m home!” Rita said hesitantly. Not hearing a reply, she slipped off her shoes and socks leaving them besides the door. Tiptoeing through the house, Rita looked in the kitchen and then the dining room. Unable to find anyone in there, Rita walked upstairs and knocked on her brother’s door.

“Come in,” said TJ from the other side of the door. When Rita opened the door, she saw TJ sitting at his desk next to one of the most beautiful women Rita ever saw in her entire life. She had black, flowing hair. Her skin was medium complexion and without a blemish except for a mold on her left cheek. She was wearing a tight white sweater and blue jeans and diamond-studded earrings. “Megami, this is my little sister, Rita.”

Megami strolled over to Rita and stooped down. “You’re TJ little sister?” Rita nodded. Megami hugged Rita who opened her eyes wide in shock that a complete stranger would walk up to her and hug her for no reason. “You look so cute; just like my little sister.” Megami turned to TJ and said, “I don’t know why she said you look....what was the word...docky.”

“It’s ‘dorky’ Megami.”

“TJ!” yelled Rita.

“Don’t tease your cute little sister TJ,” said Megami.

“Megami’s from Japan,” said TJ. “She’s moved here with her parents a year ago. Megami’s been kind enough to let me use her book and study with her.”

“It was the least I could do,” said Megami. She sat back down next to Rita’s brother. “TJ made me feel welcome since I met him. You’re lucky to have such a sweet brother.” She took Rita into her arms giving her a big bear hug. “And you’re brother is lucky to have suck a kawaii sister.”

“That means cute in Japanese.”

Rita smiled. “Oh yeah! What could I have ever done to deserve having TJ as a brother! (Nothing! That’s what. Not even Diamond Joe deserves TJ.) Well, I’ll leave you alone to study.” Rita tried getting out Megumi’s vice-like grip. “You remind of my little sister. Can you be my kawaii little sister from America?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Megumi reluctantly let Rita out of her bear hug. Rita slipped out of the room shutting the door behind her. “What a pig!” she said under her breath. “No wonder why he didn’t want the money for a new book: he’s got a fashion model for a study buddy. And worse, he made me feel guilty about it. Oh, he ticks me off. And she’s a weirdo, too.” Rita started to go back to her room when the phone rang. She picked it up and said “Hello.”

(continued on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

09-20-2004, 10:37 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Hey Rita,” said a frantic voice of a young man on the other end. Rita recognized who it was: Randy Taylor, one of TJ’s friends from high school.

“Oh hi Randy, what’s up?”

“Tell your bro to turn on the news right now.”

“Why? What going...”

“Just do it right this second!”

“TJ, Randy’s on the phone, and he said for you to turn on the TV.” TJ heeded the message that Rita relayed from the phone. On the TV screen was the anchorman from PQR Evenings News, Brett Burton. Burton was a man in his late thirties with brown hair and eyes. “...and we go now to our newest field reporter, formally from our affiliate station KTAW 32, Mary Nodell.” Rita recognized her as the reporter that interviewed Diamond Joe two weeks ago. Brett Burton turned his right as if Mary Nodell was over his shoulder. “Hello, Mary,” Burton said dispassionately.

“Hello, Brett. I’m here at the New York City shipyards where we are witnessing the largest single migration of whales to one location in recorded history. Over two hundred whales from 20 different species are now crowding the area around the shipyards. Due to the overcrowding and the rising possibility of mass beaching, it is feared that many of these majestic animals will die unless they can be sent back into the ocean. In addition to the ecological damage, all traffic to and from the ports have been blocked, essentially cutting the big apple off from the rest of the world.” A man gestured to the reporter off camera and handed her a paper. Nodell twitched for a moment in shock. “You’re kidding me,” she said to the man off camera. The man said no to Mary who still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She then mumbled something to herself just low enough not to be picked up by her mike. “This just in: more than 1000 whales, some of whom are almost 100 feet long, are heading towards this location. Mass whale beach appear to be certain. This is Mary Nodell reporting to you live from the Big Apple.”

“Hey TJ,” said Rita. “I’m going to my room. I have a lot of homework to do, and I could be busy the rest of the evening.”

“Okay, Rita, but you have to clean up the kitchen before you go to bed tonight,” said TJ.

“Sure thing, TJ.” Rita ran into her room and changed into her Gatekeeper outfit.

“But why doesn’t Seth have to come all the way out here,” Calvin Levy, a.k.a. Dusk, griped as he stared across the harbor at the school of whales swimming around the massive cargo ships lining the docks. One of the whales spouted a cloud of mist from its blowhole.

“That’s because he has an appointment with the dentist and his mom won’t let him miss to ‘play with his little friends’,” Gatekeeper replied condescendingly upon mentioning Deathtone’s mother. “And it’s Deathtone. What part of ‘secret identity’ you don’t understand?”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry won’t make everyone forget our real names if you blurt it out.” Gatekeeper tapped Punchline, who was throwing slabs of meat in the air for his giant mutant rabbit, Mr. Whiskers, to catch, on the shoulder. “Can you figure out why all these whales are here?”

Punchline let out a big sigh. “Just when I was having fun...” Punchline took out of his trench coat a tiny black box with a red button. When Punchline pressed the red button, the box exploded into a satellite dish, control box, and oversize headphones. Punchline fiddled around with the control box until he could hear whale songs. “Let’s see what whale songs made the Top 40.”

“Dusk,” asked Gatekeeper, “if I get a boat, could you tow these whales back to the ocean?”

“Are you kidding?” yelled Dusk. “Those things must weigh 1000 tons each.”

“Actually, the largest whale in the world was only 150 tons,” Punchline corrected Dusk.

“Who asked you?”

“Aw come on. Tugboats tow ships all of the time and they’re bigger than whales.”

“Do I look like a tugboat to you?”

“You know,” Punchline interjected, “you could let the ships run over the whales.”

“Punchline!” The Gatekeeper put her hands to her side and leaned forward.

“It’ll be just like the highway, except you’re on a boat...and the roadkill is really, really big.”

“I hope you were joking be...”

“Hold it! Something doesn’t sound right.” Punchline twisted a dial on the control box. “Some of the whale songs aren't coming from the whales.” Punchline picked up his gear and jumped into the water. The others, including Mr. Whiskers, peeped underneath the peer. A minute later, Punchline came up with a silver disk in his hand. It was two inches across and about as thin as a quarter. “How about a little help will ya?” Gatekeeper made a portal above Punchline while Mr. Whiskers picked his master up by his trench coat with its mouth.

“What is it?” asked Dawn.

Punchline dropped the object and pulled out his clown hammer and smashed it. “It was a loud speaker used to trick these whales into coming here.” The moment Punchline smashed the speaker, some of the whales swam away from where the group of young superheroes were.

“How many more are there?”

“I don’t know exactly, but there’s got to be a bunch of’em.”

“Well, go find them while the rest of us can get them.” For the next hour, Gatekeeper was opening portals all over New York Harbor, Dusk’s shadow was rummaging through the water, and Dawn was shooting his lasers at any speaker he cold see while Punchline directed them to the speakers. As they destroyed the speakers, the school of whales thinned out until all of them was gone. Unknown to the children, their actions didn’t go unnoticed to a certain reporter.

“Hey you!” a voice called out to Gatekeeper. Mary Nodell and a cameraman hiked across the docks heading towards her next big break: the new kid superhero team. “You there, the one dressed like a ghost. I have a few questions I want to ask you.”

“Well, too bad,” Rita barked, “I don’t have any answers for you.”

“I have some questions for you, Miss Reporter,” mocked Punchline. “Like, who’s The Tamer?”

Nodell dropped her mike and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You must. You said it yourself: ‘I can’t believe The Tamer would go this far’. I can read lips, Miss Reporter.” Punchline leaped on Nodell grabbing around her shoulders and cuddled up to her. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Nodell pushed Punchline off of her. “Get off of me you little delinquent.” Mr. Whiskers snarled at Nodell and would have attacked her if not for Punchline telling Mr. Whiskers to heel.

“So, you know who was doing this, right?” asked Gatekeeper.

“I wasn’t suppose to tell anyone until he was finished showing. His name is The Tamer. He got some sort of animal control power. He wanted to make this big entrance before I introduced him to the world.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I only saw him once. He has a bunch of wild animals escorting him around. Since then, he just calls me from a payphone.”

“Can you call him back?” Just then, Nodell’s cell phone rang. She answered the phone and handed it to Rita.

“You’re that girl that took out Diamond Joe, right. What’s your name?”

“The Gatekeeper.”

“Well Gatekeeper, I’m The Tamer and because you ruined my big opening, not one, but dozens of coastal cities will be invaded by my whales. And it won’t end there. My mastery over animals isn’t limited to the oceans. I’ll make my demands tomorrow after the world has a taste of my power.”

The next day

“More port cities have been invaded by whales.” A blue rectangle formed on the television screen next to Brett Burton’s head along with a map of the US with red dots surrounded the left and right sides of the country. The scene on the television screen changed to a line of cargo ships that stretched out for miles. “The remaining sea ports can not handle the additional ships that once made their stop in the occupied ports causing shortages in gasoline, electronics, and other imports,” the scene changes to a deserted dock, “as well as costing the jobs of thousands of dock workers as well farmers and employees of companies that export goods to other countries.” The television screen returns to Brett Burton. “The President has declared a state of emergency for the entire country. Starting tomorrow, gasoline will be rationed out to drivers in order to advert a possible shortage. However, the President will not open up the strategic petroleum reserve for the time being.” A second person appears on the screen along side Burton. The man wore the red uniform of a circus ring master and a tight, black mask over his face. “The man responsible for this calamity, calling himself The Tamer, will make his demands known on this station.” Burton tapped the paper in his hand on his desk evening them out. “Mr. Tamer. How and why are you doing this?”

“You know better than that Brett.” The Tamer mocked Burton. “No good magician ever tells his secrets.” The Tamer raised his hand and pointed out his index finger. “As for the why, it’s simple: money. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“But why blockade half of the major sea ports in the United States? Why not market your technology?”

“Because it is only a fraction of what I can make by bringing this country to its knees. The US government must pay me $1 billion per month to keep its ports open.”

“It’s not too late to reconsider your demands.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

09-20-2004, 10:39 PM

(continued from the last post)

“It is, and this interview is over.” The Tamer almost walked about before he turned back to the camera. “And this is a message to that little brat, Gatekeeper. Get in my way again, and whales will be the least of your worries.” With that, the camera feed from The Tamer stopped leaving only static on his side of the split screen.

“There you have it. One billion in cash to keep the ports of America opened for a month.”

Punchline switched off his little his portable TV and reclined back into his sleeping bag only to be aroused by Mr. Whiskers’ snarling at the bushes.

“Oh boy,” squealed Punchline, “I have visitors.” He hops on top of his rabbit’s back. “Gitty up, horsy.” The gigantic rabbit hopped through the forest until they came across a familiar face.

“I remember you. You were the cop at the museum Diamond Joe looted.”

“It’s Office Alan Hannity to be exact. Could you step off the giant man-eating bunny?”

“Sure.” Punchline slid off Mr. Whiskers. “And what can I do for you?”

“I need to speak to your boss.”

“So you know who the Tamer is, right?” Rita Williams a.k.a. the Gatekeeper took the envelop from Officer Hannity. She looked over the contents: a printout of flight records, a picture of some scientists, and the address of a laboratory.

“I know someone who works at the airport, and this person looked up the airline records for anyone who took a flight to the cities the Tamer sent those armies of whales to. It took a while, but I found one person who might be the Tamer.”

Rita glanced over the printout and noticed that one of the names was circled. “Noah Pavlov?”

“He works at the Hillcrest Institute of Zoology specializing in animal behavior. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. But...”

“But what? Why don’t you arrest him?”

“But it doesn’t prove he’s the Tamer. It’s a bit complicated. What I need for you to do is keep an eye out on the guy and wait for him to make his next move. If you catch in the act, you’ll have all the evidence you need.”

‘By the way, how did know where Punchline was.”

“We kept getting calls about Bigfoot running around the wood. Only Bigfoot doesn’t have rabbit feet.”

“Mr. Whiskers, I told you no walkies before sunset,” Punchline scolded his rabbit while waving his finger at it.

Rita formed a portal next to Punchline. “Come on, we got to pay Noah Pavlov a little visit.”

Next day at the Hillcrest Institute of Zoology

Imagine yourself inside a laboratory. There are three long tables stretching across the width of the room. On top of the tables were animal test subjects: rabbits, insects, two raccoons, and a cat. Five scientists, all dressed in lab coats, were running tests on the animals and taking notes. There were two to each table except for the table in the back. The scientist in the back was a short man, not even five feet tall with thin, ratty hair and a pasty white complexion. He was giving a raccoon commands and taking notes on how it responded. One of the scientists in the front, a woman with short black hair and glasses, pointed to the man in the back of the room.

“Look like Noah finally got himself a girlfriend.”

“That’s mean,” the other scientist, a man with red hair and a gotte, sharply whispered. “You shouldn’t say that about the raccoon.” The man and the woman tried not to giggle but couldn’t keep themselves from doing so. The man in the back, Noah Pavlov, looked up at the two who waved and pointed at him and laughed among themselves. Noah tried to go back to his work, but his test subjected started running around the room in a panic along with the rest of the animals.

“Mr. North, sir,” said a security guard pointing out five costumed children to a tall handsome man in his early thirty sporting blonde hair and an expensive looking dark blue three-piece suit. “Here’s the little brats I told you about.”

“Now, now George,” said Mr. North. “That’s no way to speak to children, especially if they are who I think they are.” He shook Rita’s hand. “You’re the kid superheroes I heard about right? I’m Bob North, head of research. What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for Noah Pavlov,” said the Gatekeeper. “He works here right?”

“Yeah, what did Noah do this time?”

“He’s The Tamer,” Seth Burrell/Deathtone called out from behind the Gatekeeper.

“Deathtone!”

Bob North shook his head. “Everyone warned me that Pavlov was a bit strange.”

“Try uber-dork,” said a man, also in a lab coat, said while he was passing by.

North made a call on his cell phone. In a minute, Noah Pavlov was being escorted by two burly security guards.

“Bob, what’s going on? The lab animals went nuts and there’s still some running around.”

“That’s her fault,” said Punchline pointing to Rita.

“How,” asked Pavlov.

“Like this,” and Rita shoved Pavlov into a portal leading to a police station.

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

09-20-2004, 10:40 PM

(continued from the last post)

“What the @#$@ are you doing here and who’s this guy?” A cop in uniform cursed. He was sitting behind a desk with Noah Pavlov and Rita’s bunch in front of him.

“What’s going on here is we caught The Tamer,” said Rita as she shoved Noah up to the policeman’s desk.

“But I’m not this Tamer guy,” Pavlov screamed.

The police man folded his hands together and looked sternly at Rita. “You have proof he is?”

Rita handed him the papers Officer Hannity gave him. The policeman looked over the flight records and papers on Pavlov. “Where’s this Hillcrest Institute at? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s in another state.”

“And how did you get these?” The policeman said holding the flight records in his hand while Pavlov glanced over them.

Rita was about to tell him but then she saw Officer Hannity waving his hands and shaking his head. “We got them ourselves.”

“I can explain. Someone broke into my house and copied my credit card number. I never had bad credit until ...”

“Shut up!” yelled the policeman in Noah’s face.

“Okay.”

“Now, let me get this straight: you kidnapped a man, brought him across state lines, *illegally* obtaining his personal records, and then expect me to arrest a guy that was in another jurisdiction without an arrest warrant?”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Kevin asked sheepishly.

“No, it won’t because I’m arresting you. That’ll solve everything.” But before the policeman could get his hands on the children, Rita teleported them out of there.

“I told you just keep an eye on Pavlov!” Officer Hannity and Rita were at Punchline’s campsite. Officer Hannity was breathing heavily and sweating while Rita slumped her shoulders in shame. “You were supposed to wait for him to make the next move.”

“But why? You gave us proof.”

“You’d think I ask you to keep an eye on him if we could arrest him? Look, I checked; he had an alibi. It’s possible he faked the break-in, but without proof, we have to assume someone else was using his credit card account. That’s why I took evidence and gave it to you. We couldn’t stop him if he tried anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hannity.”

“It’s my fault,” said Officer Hannity as he took a deep breath. “I should have told you this before.” Detective Hannity fished in his pockets for his keys. “Listen, if anything comes up, dial my cell phone number.” Hannity then slapped Rita on the back. “You’ll get’em kid.”

After Hannity left, Rita waited around for Punchline, who was suppose to meet up with her and the detective. Rita was about to go off to look for Punchline, when she heard trees being knocked down and bushes shaking. It was Mr. Whiskers hopping through the woods trampling everything its path. Mr. Whiskers stopped right next to Rita, grabbed her by her cowl, and tossed her on his back.

“We’re being invaded!” Punchline sat on top of Mr. Whiskers back stooped over like a horse jockey in a race.

“What are you talking about?” Punchline pointed to the giant black cloud behind them.

“What are those?”

“Bees, angry bees,” said Punchline. Rita, in all of the confusion, wasn’t aware of the buzzing noise from the black cloud. “Teleport us out’ta here!”

“No can do,” the Gatekeeper shook her head. “they might sting somebody else. Besides, we got bulletproof clothes.”

“It’s no good. Bees can crawl underneath it.”

“Isn’t there a factory around here?”

“Yeah.”

“Get me close enough to see the smokestacks.”

“I get it.” Punchline pulled on Mr. Whiskers ears turning him to the right. When they were close enough to see the factory’s smokestacks, the Gatekeeper opened her portals over the top of the smokestacks filling the woods with grey smog. The ground was littered with thousands of bees on their backs twitching. However, Rita’s little trick wasn’t foolproof. All three of the heroes inhaled their share of smog and were coughing and gasping for air. Their eyes were watering blinding them. Mr. Whiskers stumbled around looking for a way out of the smoke. Rita tried opening a portal for the mutant rabbit to walk through but Mr. Whiskers went the wrong direction. Suddenly, a dart hit Mr. Whiskers on the ear causing him to rev up throwing Rita and Punchline off his back with both of them landing on their butts.

“Impressive little trick you have there. I thought the bees would have finished you off by now.” The Tamer mockingly clapped his hands. To left was a giant grizzly bear and to his right a pair of panthers.

“The Tamer,” Rita coughed.

“Did you really think you’d get away with tossing me to the cops?”

“So, you are Noah Pavlov.”

“And I bet you can add and say your ABC’s too, but I’m here for that amazing beast of yours.

“Mr. Whiskers,” Punchline whispered before springing up and grabbing his pet rabbit by the pelt. The Tamer raised a whip at Mr. Whiskers and punched a button on the handle. Mr. Whiskers leaped at the Gatekeeper almost landing on top of her with Punchline still holding on to his fur. The Gatekeeper ran behind an oak tree three feet across hoping to keep something between herself and the rampaging mutant rabbit. Her hopes were dashed when Mr. Whiskers batted the tree with his paw uprooting it despite the old oak’s thick roots. Mr. Whiskers turned his attentions from Rita to Punchline. First, Mr. Whiskers tried turning his head to bite Punchline in half but he managed scoot out of the way. Then, Mr. Whiskers tried bucking him off, but Punchline held on too tight for the rabbit to throw him off. This bought the Gatekeeper enough time to open portal and come out behind Mr. Whiskers.

“Punchline! Let go of Mr. Whiskers!” Punchline formed a portal next to Punchline. The clown child, however, would not let go even when Mr. Whiskers tried hopping on the Gatekeeper again but not before she teleported out of the way. “Punchline! The Tamer’s controlling Mr. Whiskers. He’s trying to kill you.” The Gatekeeper created another portal for Punchline, but Punchline wouldn’t let go.

“Mr. Tamer, sir,” said Punchline crying with tears washing away his clown makeup. “Don’t take Mr. Whiskers away from me. He’s my only friend.”

The Tamer hung his head in his hand. “How pathetic!”

“I’ll work for you if you don’t take him from me.”

“Punchline!” Rita screamed in protest.

“Hmmm,” The Tamer held his chin. “Did you create this monster?”

“He’s not a monster. He’s my best friend, but I did make him.”

“Sure, I can use you.” The Tamer pressed another button on his whip handle. Mr. Whiskers settled down. Punchline embraced the monster rabbit burying his face in his fur coat crying.

“Punchline, you can’t betray us.”

“Get lost, Rita!” Punchline snapped. “I don’t care about you and your stupid gang. Mr. Whiskers need me.”

“Have it your way,” she said before disappearing into a portal.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So, it looks like the good evil clown is just plain evil. Now the Tamer has the scientific genius of Punchline the Clown and the incredible strength of his pet Mr. Whiskers at his command, can the Metadeliquents hope to stand up against this threat. Stay tune for the next nail-biting issue of Metadeliquents.

CrossoverManiac

09-27-2004, 11:54 AM

This is a colored pic of Deathtone.

PS: *Please* critique my work. Someone out there please tell me if I'm doing it right or wrong.

the_coldest_sun

09-27-2004, 12:04 PM

CrossoverManiac

09-27-2004, 12:29 PM

Your latest drawing is looking better than the previous ones. Maybe the coloring had something to do with that. I know Photoshop coloring my own drawings greatly improves the overall look, so I started to build more confidence. Then I realized I still can't draw faces. :( Anyways, not too bad so far. Keep on truckin'!

Thanks. It was done in Paint, but I'm hoping to come up with a better paint program. I have to either learn to draw well enough to be just as good as professional artists or find someone to do the artwork for me (I want to publish Metadeliquents someday). BTW: how was the story?

CrossoverManiac

09-28-2004, 11:36 AM

Here's a pic of Rita Williams/Gatekeeper, my main character. She's sort of in costume but without her hood and mask and her hair doesn't have white in it, but I left it there because I thought it good (sort of like Rogue and Song Bird).

the_coldest_sun

09-28-2004, 11:55 AM

I like the Rita drawing. I haven't read any of the stories yet. I'm lazy that way.

CrossoverManiac

10-20-2004, 09:59 PM

Metadeliquents: Issue 8
Betrayal: No wound cuts deeper than the one made by a friend
All characters are the intellectual property of Timothy Weaver, alias, Crossover Maniac.

The Gatekeeper leaned over a desk resting her head in her hands with her elbows on the table. On the other side of the polished oak table was the head of the Hillcrest Institute of Animal Behavior Bob North. In front of him was a sack of papers and a plaque with his name printed on it.

Bob North reclined back into his chair. “So, your that clown switched sides.”

The Gatekeeper nodded her head. “He sold us out for a rabbit.

“I guest it made sense,” North chuckled, “Circus animals, lion tamer, and clown: they all belong in a circus, together.”

Rita didn’t think his joke was funny. “He should have been one of ours.”

“So why are you here?”

“I dropped by Noah’s place, but he wasn’t there. His mail’s been stacking up so I don’t think he’s been there for awhile.” Rita gazed up at North. “You were real close to Noah. Everyone here says so. Maybe, you know.”

Bob North shook his hands. “No, no. Yeah I was closer to Noah than anyone else, but he keeps to himself. I barely know him.”

“Are you sure you don’t know anything?”

“No more than you do.” North laid his hands on the desk and folded his hands together. “So, he really did turn on you. This isn’t some superhero plot?”

The Gatekeeper snorted in disgust. “You know those cartoons when a good guy joins the bad guy and all the other good guys think he’s evil and then at the end of the show the traitor betrays the bad guys and tells everyone it was all a part of some plan to get the bad guy. Well, this isn’t one of them.”

A large moving truck was parked at the loading dock of a rusty old rundown two story steel warehouse. Just inside the large double doors was Mr. Whiskers who was collared and chained to the wall. He drooled over a feeding trough full of carrots, celery sticks, cauliflower, and lettuce. Mr. Whisker’s eyes have a glassy stare devoid of any life of its own for pinned on his left ear was The Tamer’s control device making Mr. Whiskers completely obedient to his master with no will of his own. On the other side of the building was The Tamer stooped over sulking. His once neatly trimmed ringmaster costume was in dishevel and halfway unbuttoned. Peeking through the doorway was Punchline the Clown. His make-up was partially washed away revealing his dark copper skin.

“Mr. Tamer sir,” Punchline said softly, “I gave you their real names and addresses. Me and Mr. Whiskers can go now, right?” The Tamer answered Punchline’s request by throwing a chair at him. Punchline ducked out of the way allowing the chair to pass by and smash itself against the basement wall. “Gee, it’s a shame you know the superheroes’ secret identities, ain’t it?”

“I’m not in the mood, clown.” The Tamer fumed. “The Metadeliquents humiliated me in front of the whole world.”

“Meta who?”

“Your little friends that’s who. It’s what that reporter Mary named you. That Rita girl must have told everyone about my whale callers. The reporter said the sea ports would all be cleared by tomorrow.”

“And now that you know who the Metadeliquents really are, you can put some poisonous snakes under their beds.”

“NO! They made a fool of me in front of the world. Their demise must be as public.” The Tamer pointed to a cage lined with newspaper with a fowl-smelling brown bat hanging upside down inside of it. “I need you to make sound amplifiers small enough to fit on those.”

“So you can make a white noise generator to counter Deathtone’s sonic scream?”

“Bingo. Can you do it?”

Sure, but you’re going to need more than one little brown bat to cancel Deathtone’s sonic blast.”

“That’s why you’re going to build me 300.”

“I can make’em in a week.”

“I want them in three days.”

“I can’t make that many in three days.”

“You know what lemmings are, don’t you? Scandinavian rodents compelled by instinct to drown themselves crossing the ocean. I can make rabbits do the same.”

“Please don’t,” Punchline said in a panicked voice. “I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt Mr. Whiskers.”

“That’s better. What about the others?”

“Dawn needs energy absorbed by Dusk to use his laser power. Once he uses it up, he’s powerless.”

“Blocking out the sun? That can be arranged.”

“But that would free up Dusk’s dark energy power. He won’t have to worry about absorbing too much energy to use it.”

“I can overwhelm him with sheer number. What about Gatekeeper?”

“Leave her to me and Mr. Whiskers.”

“Good.” The Tamer pointed to some equipment on a table. “Load these into the truck while I get *my* rabbit.” Punchline winched at hearing The Tamer’s taunt.

Rita, Seth, Calvin, and Kevin were in a circle on the red carpeted floor. Posters of female pop stars and pictures of Calvin, Kevin, and their mother decorated the surrounding wall. Seth was munching on some burgers and fries he bought at a fast food restaurant.

“So, Punchline sold us out?” Calvin wasn’t too please to see Rita nod her head to his question.

“Maybe this is all some really cool plan to catch The Tamer,” said Kevin enthusiastically.

“You can be real stupid you know that,” Calvin moaned.

“You are right,” said Kevin mockingly, “Punchline has betrayed us.” Kevin nudged Rita with his elbow. “Right, Rita.”

“Kevin,” Rita sighed, “Punchline betrayed us for real.”

“No subbrise dere (No surprise there)” Seth mumbled with a mouth full of food. “Di dry to barn do (I tried to warn you).” Seth swallowed his food. “You didn’t believe me.” Seth took another bite of his hamburger and stuffed some fries into his mouth with it.

Rita slumped over. “I know. Look, I want you all to stay with your families. The Tamer may try to get them if he knows our secret identities.”

Seth spit out his food and nearly choked on what was left in his mouth. “You mean that Tamer guy knows who we are.”

“If I was The Tamer, that would be the first thing I’d make Punchline tell me.”

“And now thanks to you, The Tamer might get my mom and dad and little brother.”

“I don’t know for sure. Punchline might lie to him and give some made-up names. But just in case, pretend to be sick and keep an eye out on your families.”

“My mom ain’t stupid. The last time I tried that, she put me to work all day cleaning up the house.”

“Then clean your stupid house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Calvin and Kevin’s mother walked into the room. “I can get some of the guys from the animal rights group to keep an eye on them, and I won’t have to tell them why either.” Edith handed Rita a cell phone. “I’ll tell them to call me if anything happens to your family, and I’ll can you.”

“You’ll do that for us?” asked Rita surprised by Edith’s offer for help.

“Anything to stop humans from enslaving animals,” said Edith before she snatched Seth’s hamburger. “And that includes enslaving animals for food.”

Seth jumped up trying to get back his hamburger from Edith. “That’s mine!”

No meat in my house.”

“But I’m still hungry.”

“I have some vegetarian casserole in the refrigerator.” Edith made her way out of the room. “I’m going to give this poor cow a proper burial.”

Calvin pointed to the twin bed to his right. “There a can of Vienna sausages under the bed.”

“You told Edith you threw them away,” Kevin squealed.

“Like you never ate meat.” Calvin tugged on Seth’s pants’ leg. “Don’t let Edith find out.” Seth opened up the can of Vienna sausages and began stuffing his face.

“Can you stop eating, Seth?” Rita fumed. “This is important.”

“I get hungry when I’m nervous.”

“If The Tamer does try something,” said Rita, “I want you all to wear your costumes under your clothes. I’ll teleport you out of class if he tries anything.”

“Won’t they find out we’re superheroes if you do that?” asked Calvin.

“It won’t matter if The Tamer knows who we are.”

“Thanks a lot Rita,” Seth sneered at Rita. “We’re in trouble now.”

“I think things will work out for the better.” Rita remembered the time when Mr. Impossible ‘helped’ Rita, and TJ to stay together after their dad died. “I think Mr. Impossible is helping us without us knowing about it.”

Calvin rolled his eyes. “Some stupid superhero that’s been gone since my mom was a kid is going to help us.”

“Yeah.” Rita turned her head and whispered, “I hope.”

Punchline woke up from his nap inside The Tamer’s truck. He held his hand against over his eyes blocking out the rays of the early morning dawn. There was no one else in the truck and they were no longer moving. Punchline got out and saw that a horde of bats flying around The Tamer who was holding out the tiny amplifiers Punchline made. He placed an amplifier on each one.

“It won’t be long now.” When he was finished, he pointed to a massive city with gigantic skyscrapers rising from its depths glistering with the rising sun behind it. “The Metadeliquents will die in the very city where they made me look like a fool.”

(continue on next post)

CrossoverManiac

10-20-2004, 10:01 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Do you have to go play tennis today?” Rita stood in front the door with arms extended. Facing her was TJ who was decked out in short pants and shirt with a racket in one hand and a pack of tennis balls in the other.

“Yes I do. I haven’t played tennis in months.”

“It’s not like you can't next week.”

“Actually, it is. Randy won’t have the weekends off for a while. Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You called me every hour for the last three days.”

“It wasn’t every hour.”

“You almost got me fired from the auto parts store.”

“Your boss is a jerk.”

“That’s because some pesk kept calling his store asking for her big brother.” Rita showed her displeasure with her brother by pouting and turning her nose up at him. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Rita’s little tantrum subsided revealing the loathing Rita was trying to hide. “I’m scared something going to happen to you, and I’ll never see you again.”

“Look Rita, nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s not like you could stop it from happening anyway. So why worry?” The two siblings took a time out from their argument when the mood was broken by a ringing phone. TJ grabbed the cordless phone. “Hello?” He answered. His only reply was the dial tone. Rita ducked into kitchen clinking on Edith’s cell phone.

“Rita, The Tamer’s on the news. He’s attacking New York City. He sprung all of the animals out of the zoo and kennel, which would be great if he didn’t enslave them all over again. There are animal attacks all over New York; lots of people hurt or worse.”

“Tell Kevin and Calvin to get ready while I grab Seth.”

“Rita, where you’d run off to?” TJ cried out.

“I’ll see you in five minutes.” Rita clicked off the phone and stuffed it into her pockets. “I thought about what you said. And you’re right. Have a nice trip.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup,” Rita nodded. She forced a smile for her big brother.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t stray off too far until I come back.”

“I won’t.” Once the family pick-up truck sped off with TJ and tennis racket in toe, Rita peeled off her clothes revealing her Gatekeeper uniform underneath. “I hope New York Harbor is too far for me, TJ,” Rita said as she made a stop at Seth’s house.

“Could he at least until after 12 to take over the world?” A lengthy yawn bellowed its way out of Deathtone’s mouth exposing Seth Burrell’s groggy state along with his half-opened eyes. “I sleep in on Saturdays.”

“I’ll write Tamer a nasty letter for you,” The Gatekeeper said sarcastically. “Now pay attention.”

Dawn shot a light beam right beside the Gatekeeper and Deathtone. “Hey watch it, stupid!” Deathtone yelled.

“They’re here.” Dawn pointed to a horde of snarling dogs and hissing cats heading towards them. Deathtone and the Gatekeeper stepped aside and let Dawn shine an intense beam of light at the pack of animals. The animals stumbled around in a daze.

“You didn’t blind them, did you?” The Gatekeeper asked Dawn.

“Only for a little while,” Dawn reassured Rita. As Dawn was talking, it started getting darker. High above the city, a dark cloud blotted out the sun. The dark cloud hummed a strange, inhuman chant as if some dark force was forewarning the city’s inhabitants of the fulfillment of a dark prophecy. The cloud pulsated; taking in air and spewing hordes of flying insects that strayed a bit before finding their way back into the dark cloud.

“Punchline told him about our powers,” Gatekeeper said with dread in her voice.

“Big surprise,” Deathtone said snidely.

A trash bin slid out of an alley followed by a large shadow. The Gatekeeper pointed to the shadow. “Dawn, I need a light.”

“I don’t know if should use up all of my power.”

“We still got Deathtone and Dusk.” Dawn shined a light into the alley. Punchline and Mr. Whiskers’ profiles glistened in the spotlight. Deathtone screamed at Punchline and Mr. Whiskers sending a wave of destruction plowing through the asphalt street knocking chunks out of it, but, fortunately for the clown and mutant rabbit, Dawn and the Gatekeeper yanked his arm redirecting Deathtone’s scream at a rundown building demolishing it. Punchline and Mr. Whiskers darted out of the alley and into the deserted street.

“Punchline! Wait!” A string of portals opened and closed running along side Punchline and Mr. Whiskers as they made their way down the street. The Gatekeeper appeared and disappeared through the portals as Mr. Whiskers ran passed her.

“You two are idiots!” Deathtone fumed at Dawn.

“Why? Because you tried to kill Punchline?” Dusk said defending his brother.

“I wasn’t trying to kill him,” Deathtone said defensively. “He’s a supervillain and it wasn’t...you know...not kill him.” As they were arguing, a horde of bats flew over the three boys hanging from street lamps and power lines.

“Well, you might have. He doesn’t have powers,” Dawn corrected Deathtone.

“Guys, we got company.” Dusk pointed to the army of zoo animals pouring into the docks.

“No problem.” As Deathtone opened his mouth to let out another sonic scream, a strange humming noise surrounded them. Nothing happened when Deathtone screamed except silence. Deathtone tried again, and just as before, nothing happened.

Dawn pointed up. “Those bats have some weird thingies on them.”

“Punchline you @#$@#$%,” Deathtone cursed. Dusk’s shadow rushed out from under his feet grabbing at the bats that flew just out of reach and still emitting their own sonic attack.

Dawn grabbed Dusk’s shoulder. “Dusk, where’s Gatekeeper. She has to get us out of here.”

Dusk shoved Dawn away. “Shut up will ya.” Dusk’s shadow directed its attention towards the herd of wild beasts encircled the three children. A lion, six rhinos, and three bull elephants charged at the kid superheroes at once. The attacked was repealed by the shadow. It wrapped itself around the rampaging animals smashing them into the surrounding beast. Immediately, several wolves, snakes, and gorillas try to attack while the shadow was dealing with the last wave of attacks but they, too, were stopped in their tracks by the shadow.

“Come on Rita,” Dusk pleaded, “I can’t keep this up all day.”

A buzzard circled above Deathtone, Dawn, and Dusk. On its neck was a tiny video camera. The camera’s signal beamed images to a laptop. The laptop’s screen was the only source of light illuminating the face of the Tamer as he was watched from his hiding place somewhere within the Big Apple.

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

10-20-2004, 10:02 PM

(continued on the last post)

Rita teleported right in front of Mr. Whiskers holding her arms out. “You’re not any further, backstabber.” Punchline tugged on Mr. Whiskers’ fur. The giant rabbit hopped up the walls of two surrounding buildings until they were on the roof. Rita teleported to the top of the building. Punchline steered his rabbit to walk next to a water tower on top of the building putting it between them and the Gatekeeper. “Was your stupid rabbit so important to you that you stab us in the back, Punchline?” Punchline remained silent as Rita walked closer and closer to him. As the Gatekeeper walked around the water tower, Mr. Whiskers backed away. “Say something @$%@#%$!”

Punchline’s only reply was to toss a large horseshoe magnet out of his trenchcoat at Rita. The magnet slammed into her chest pressing her against the cold metal surface of the water tower. The Gatekeeper tried teleporting away but she couldn’t go through the portal since she was pinned against the water tower.

Rita looked over her left shoulder to the sound of foot steps to her side. The Tamer strolled over to Rita looking her over. “Took you long enough,” said the Tamer to Punchline.

“Had to goat her into standing in the right spot,” said Punchline.

The Tamer stooped over Rita showing the images of her three teammates being overwhelmed by the army of animals on his laptop. “It’s almost like a dream,” said the Tamer intoxicated with power, “I knew I was powerful, but to dispense with you so easily. The world will fear and worship me after I’m done with you.” The villain nudged Rita’s shoulder. “What do you say about that?” Rita wouldn’t answer. He walked up to Punchline who was over almost two heads shorter than him and pointed to Rita saying, “Teach Gatekeeper to respect her new lord and master.”

The Gatekeeper lifted her head and looked into the eyes of her betrayer. She stared into Punchline’s black eyes; looking to see if there was any remorse or sorrow for stabbing her in the back. Punchline’s face was within an inch of Rita’s and said with his hot breath blowing into her mouth, “The Tamer’s is in control. You can’t beat him without your little team mates helping you. Suddenly, the Gatekeeper felt something in her hand. Punchline handed his joy buzzer off to her. “You know what you have to do, right?”

“Right,” said Rita before she slipped the joy buzzer on her hand, opened a portal next to the Tamer, and grabbed his laptop.” The monitor exploded in a flash of white light. The Tamer’s covered his eyes rubbing it before Punchline grabbed his whip and breaking the handle in half.

The control device on Mr. Whiskers’ ear fell off as the mutant rabbit stumbled into the water tower bending the beams on it before leaning on it for support. Punchline wasted no time attending to his pet seeing if he was okay. Mr. Whiskers took notice of his owner and started to lick his face like a mother cat cleaning her kittens leaving none of Punchline’s make up on his face. Punchline couldn’t help but to giggle as Mr. Whiskers’ tough ran across his face tickling him.

Suddenly, the same bear and panthers that the Tamer had with him before rush out of the freight elevator. The bear grabbed the Tamer by the coat dragging him away. The two panthers stood between them and the Gatekeeper and Punchline growling at them; their bodies coiled back ready to spring on the two superheroes if they attempted to pursue.

Punchline reached into his coat pocket and the magnet holding the Gatekeeper to the water tower fell powerless to the ground. Punchline walked towards the two panthers showing neither fear nor hesitation. The panthers leaped into the air with claws extended, but before they could get within reach, Punchline pulls out his clown hammer and nailing both of the big cats in midair. The panthers fell to the ground limp and unable to move.

“Punchline,” Rita cried out, “we have to go save the others.” Both Punchline and the Gatekeeper teleported to the spot where Deathtone, Dawn, and Dusk was only to find they were busy capturing the rogue animals. Dusk was grabbing animals with his shadow while Dawn and Deathtone were tying them up.

“Hey guys,” said Deathtone pointing to Punchline, “Gatekeeper got that traitor.”

“Hold on a sec,” said the Gatekeeper, “Punchline didn’t betray us.”

“What!” said Deathtone, Dawn, and Dusk at the same time.

“Punchline pretended to betray us so we could beat the Tamer.”

“You mean you lied?” Dusk scowled.

“I knew Punchline was pretending. I knew Punchline was pretending,” Dawn singed while jumping up and down much to his twin brother’s annoyance.

“I had to so we could fool the Tamer. Deathtone did a good job trying to blast Punchline.”

“You are such a phony,” Deathtone spat. “You shoulda told us.”

“If I did, you-would-talking-like-this-and-the-Tamer-wouldn’t-be-fooled,” the Gatekeeper mockingly stuttered.

Seth pointed to the Gatekeeper and said to the twins, “You see why I hate her. She’s a big lying phony.”

“Well too bad.”

“But what about the Tamer?” asked Kevin.

“We’ll go back to Hillcrest after we return all of the animals to the zoo and get the Tamer.”

“Like that Noah Pavlov guy’s going to show up again,” said Calvin.

“Just wait and see.”

(concluded on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

10-20-2004, 10:03 PM

(continued from the last post)

Four hours later at the Hillcrest Institute of Animal Behavior...

“Mr. North,” said a burly security officer, “those kids are back.” Bob North was walking besides the security officer as they made their way into the building from the parking lot. He was wrapped in a wrinkled white lab coat and his hair wasn’t brushed as if he was getting dressed in a hurry. The two were greeted by Rita and her bunch and two grown men in suits.

“Sorry I’m such a mess,” Mr. North apologized, “I came over as soon as I got the call from my secretary.”

“We’re here for the Tamer.”

“Noah’s not here, but my staff and I are at your disposal. If you need any help, just say so.”

Rita stepped up to North and grabbed the front of his lab coat. “Actually, you’d done enough.” Rita ripped North’s lap coat sending buttons flying all over the room. The security guards’ eyes were bulging out. Some of the scientists passing back stopped in their tracks looking on in shock. The men in suits pulled out their guns from their jackets while holding up their badges. For underneath Bob North’s lap coat was the uniform of the Tamer.

“How,” whispered North hoarsely.

“When Noah stood next to Punchline, they were about the same height. But when Punchline stood next the Tamer, he was tall like a grown up. Noah couldn’t be the Tamer. But then I remembered you. You brought Noah here. You buddied up to him. And you bugged me about whether or not Punchline betrayed us.” The two men in suits garnished a pair of handcuffs that they slapped on North’s wrists. “Now where’s Noah Pavlov.”

“Somewhere down the Hudson River.”

“How could you? You were his friend.”

“I was never that loser’s friend...”

Flashback

Noah leaned against the wall of a dimly lit living room. There was a troubled look in his face. Behind him was a doorway spilling precious light into the darkness. “Why Bob why? What did I do to deserve this? First I got robbed and now those weird kids said I did those awful things.”

“Relax Noah,” said a voice from the doorway. The light from the door was split in half by the large imposing shadow of Bob North. Bob stood right behind Noah. His left hand was behind his back. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I can’t go to jail. I won’t last a day.”

“You’re not going to jail. I’ll see to that myself.”

“You’re the only friend I have now, Bob.” Noah’s sorrow lightened and a little smile managed to find its way on his face. Noah turned to thank his ‘friend’ only see North with left hand raised up brandishing a butcher knife. Noah held out his hands and screamed before...

End of Flashback

“...with Noah gone, I could get the police to chase after him, and they would never bother me. It was a perfect plan if you didn’t get lucky.”

“Perfect?!?” Rita sneered. “More like pathetic. If little kids could see pass your stupid plan, then grown ups wouldn’t have been fooled.” North vigorously shook his head. “I mean, if you’re going to frame someone, make sure they’re at least the same height. You’re trying for “America’s Dumbest Criminals” or something?”

“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU ALL.” North lunged at Rita but the two men in suits grabbed him by the arms.

“How, you couldn’t do it with you stupid animals. What makes you think you can to hurt me now?”

“Bob North, you’re under arrest,” one of the men said, “you have the right to remain...”

“I know my rights, moron,” North spat. The two men dragged North off.

The Gatekeeper and Punchline stepped out of the portal back to his camp ground. Punchline looked nervously away from the Gatekeeper. “Um, Rita,” Punchline said as his words awkwardly stumbled out of his month, “why did you lie for me? I really did betray you.”

The Gatekeeper peeled off her mask revealing the same cold unsympathetic eyes that Punchline gazed at her with. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it because you’re on the list, and you have to work for me.”

“So, you don’t really like me,” said Punchline disappointedly.

“Like you!” Rita yelled, “You stabbed us in the back. Why would I like you?”

“I’m sorry, Rita. Please believe me I am. But Mr. Whiskers...”

“That ugly monster!” Punchline’s feelings of sorrow were replaced by anger when Rita called his rabbit a monster. “What about your teammates?”

“Why I should I care about them? Mr. Whiskers is my only friend. You only cared about me making gadgets and doing science stuff for you.”

“And why should I care about you? You picked a rabbit over us. And don’t think about leaving either. Because if you do...”

“I won’t because I feel bad about what I did.”

“I thought so, and no more going on missions with the rest of us. I don’t want you betraying us...again.” Rita was about to leave before she remembered. “Oh, did you tell the Tamer who we really are?”

“No,” Punchline lied.

“Good.” Rita disappeared into her portal.

Punchline sat in front of a makeshift table made from a 55-gallon drum and plywood and slumped over burying his head into his arms. Mr. Whiskers walked over and nuzzled up against him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, the Metadeliquents saved the days but there’s dissention in the ranks. Looks like Rita may need to brush up on her people skills, and she’ll be getting lessons from the most unlikely of sources. Rita gets to play tour guide to a foreign exchange student. So there won’t be any heart-pounding action scenes, but I’ll try to make it up with some pre-teen angst (or as close to it as I can get). And what about the Tamer? Will he reveal the Metadeliquents’ secret identities to the world? Tune in next week, same Meta-time, same Meta-channel (that is so cheesy; Adam West would be proud).

CrossoverManiac

10-31-2004, 08:55 PM

I haven't gotten any reviews of this fic one way or another. If it's that bad, let me know then I can at least make corrections.

CrossoverManiac

01-02-2005, 08:49 PM

Metadeliquents: Issue 9
Seth vs. the Red Harpy: Seth goes it alone
All characters belong to CrossoverManiac a.k.a. Timothy Weaver

Seth Burrell passed the ball between his beat-up leather glove and free hand while he was on the pitcher’s mound waiting for the final batter. His blue and yellow uniform with the word ‘Panthers’ engraved on the back of the shirt and on his baseball cap was covered in red dust. His face had smudges of dirt on his cheeks and forehead. He squinted at his final challenger, a tall high school student with tree trunks for arms and legs, no neck, and a sloping caveman brow. His eyes could scarcely contain the fires of determination and confidence hidden underneath. “Why you’d even bothered,” Seth whispered to himself, “no one on your team got the ball pass the plate when I’m pitching.” The larger boy, or young man, pointed to Seth and then to the bleachers letting Seth know he met his match. Seth smirked before tossing a curve ball just out of reach of the young man’s bat.

“Strike one,” the umpire called out.

Seth let another curve ball fly out. The young man’s bat almost, but not quite, made contact with the ball. The umpire’s proclamation of a second strike made the young man tense up. He grinded his teeth while squeezing on his bat so tightly Seth could hear it crack under the pressure. Seth let the final ball tear lose from his hand whizzing pass the plate before colliding with the young man’s bat. However, the ball kept going after cracking the bat into splinters on impact. No sooner than the umpire could call the young man out and the Panthers the victors, the spectators jumped the fences and overran the field. The mob hoisted Seth on their shoulders carrying him out of the stadium. Or they would have had not the umpire’s whistle pierce their eardrums.

“Seth Burrell is disqualified from the game,” called the umpire.

Seth slipped out of the crowd and matched in front the umpire. “I didn’t do nothing to get disqualified.”

“You don’t belong to the Panthers. You’re registered to another team.” The umpire gestured to his left. There, in the dugouts, the Gatekeeper and the rest of the Metadeliquents waited. “You’re on their team, son.”

“I’m not one of them, I’m a Panther.”

“Then how come you’re wearing their uniform.” Seth looked at his own uniform. He was now in his Deathtone costume. His baseball cap was replaced by his face mask.

“No, this is all wrong.” The Gatekeeper clapped an iron collar connected to a chain around Deathtone’s neck. The Gatekeeper yanked on the chain pulling Seth towards her.

“You belong to us, Deathtone. You hear me, Seth? Do you?”

“You hear me, son?” A large man with a protruding belly nudged his son on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“Yeah, dad, I hear ya.” Seth gazed at his father with a lazy eye.

“Are you going to eat that hotdog?”

His wife, a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes wearing a Panthers’ T-shirt and short blue jeans, kicked her husband on his shin. “Stop taking food out of your own son’s mouth.”

“It’s okay. He can have it,” Seth said scarcely acknowledged the chili and mustered-soaked hotdog he was holding. Seth’s dad thanked his son and jammed the chili dog into his mouth.

Seth’s mom pouted. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Seth’s dad shrugged his shoulders. “Why? Seth didn’t want it.” Just then, the Panthers youth team took the outfield while the opposing team, the Hacksaws, went to bat. “Hey, you’re little brother Jake’s pitching.” Jake was on the pitcher’s mound picking his nose. The Panthers’ little league coach yelled to Jake to get his finger out of his nose and pitch. Jake tossed the ball underhanded to the batter who missed and sprung around and coming within an inch of knocking the umpire’s face mask. Jake tossed another ball underhanded but this time the batter hit the ball. The batter made a quick dash...to third base. Jake didn’t fare much better. The ball stopped next to the pitcher’s mound, and Jake didn’t so much as look at the ball let alone made any attempt to throw the ball to first despite pleads from the Panthers’ coach. The Hacksaws’ coach ran unto the field and pointed to home and then to first base to the young batter who started running to home base. The Panthers’ coach also made a trek onto the field pointing the ball and first base to Jake. Jake picked up the ball and threw it halfway to first base. The batter would have been out had it not been for the catcher at first base also standing idly by.

“Mommy, Daddy, Sef, did you see me play?” Jake jumped into his father’s arms.

“You did great for your first game,” said Jake’s father. Jake’s mom patted him on the head.

“You looked stupid,” Seth spat.

Jake stuck his tongue at Seth. “Mommy, Sef’s being a poop head.”

“Be nice to your brother, will ya,” said Seth’s father.

Seth folded his arms together. “Alright, you did good, Jake.”

“Hey, Seth, you’re class’s up is next.”

“Um, dad, can we go home?”

“No way, Jose, me and Jake wants to watch the rest of the games.”

“Mom!”

“Honey,” said Seth’s mom, “why don’t you want to see your classmates play?”

“Because they kicked Sef out for being a poop head,” Jake cried out.

“You call me a poop head one more time, I’ll kick you’re a...OUCH!” Seth gripped the back of his head where his mother smacked him.

“Cut it out both of you,” yelled Seth’s dad, “or I’ll be kicking butt, yours.”

Seth and Jake settled down to watch the next game. Halfway through the first inning, Seth wasn’t too enthused seeing his classmates playing baseball. He should have been playing too. He was a really good player too. But that stupid Rita and her stupid superhero crap ruined everything for him. “Mom, can I catch the bus home?”

Seth’s mom signed. “Okay! Okay! Go back home. Sheesh.” Seth’s mom grabbed him on the shoulder. “Go straight home. You don’t, you’re going to be in a world of hurt if you don’t.” Seth nodded his head before heading off to the bus stop.

The weekends, so far, was a let down for Seth. First he was dragged out to a baseball game he didn’t want to go and now having to ride back home on a smelly bus with stuck-up commuters for the next hour. The bus stopped at the corner of an intersection. Another group of passengers filed through the door and took their place at an available seat. Seth felt himself being pressed against the window. A rather large woman, without so much as a word, bumped him out of her way. “Hey watch it!”

The woman wagged her finger at Seth. “Don’t back talk me. I’m not your mother.” The woman’s gaze revealed her disapproval of the young boy.

Seth wanted to use his powers on her, but then he’d never heard the end of it from Rita. He let the fat woman’s abuse slide. Seth continued looking out the window since he had little room to turn his head and look at anything else; that and the fact that the woman wouldn’t let him breath on her.

“You know,” said the fat woman, “when I was your age, children were seen and not heard. It’s a shame time’s change.”

“Yeah, whatever happened to the good old days when you were a kid and fire wasn’t invented yet,” thought Seth.

“There was a time children worked all day at your age...” The woman droned on about ‘the good old days’ and how today’s children were all selfish irresponsible brats until the driver clicked on the intercom.

“There is a curfew in effect from 6 pm to 6 am, and the municipal district is now a restricted area.”

“What for,” a man asked in the seat in front of Seth and the rude woman.

“A supervillain’s been sighted heading there fast, really fast. I think they called her the harpy.”

“Red Harpy.” The man looked back at Seth. “She can fly as fast as a jet fighter.” Seth remembered her from the news and that from Rita’s stupid meetings.

The rude woman put her finger on her lips. “Shush! Don’t interrupt when grown people are talking. You’re lucky you’re not my child.”

“And I heard she’ll be here in like the next fifteen minute,” worried the bus driver.

Seth knew there was no time to waste. He tried getting up before the rude woman got up blocking his way. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“I got to get off, right now.”

“Say please, may I get off, ma’am.” The rude woman folded her arms and pouting her lips while staring down Seth.

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-02-2005, 08:50 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Ggggggeeeeeetttttttttt oooooouuuuuuuuutttttttttttt ooooooffffffffff mmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy wwwwwwwwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.” The rude woman stepped to the side. Seth was about to squeeze through when he decided the woman needed to be taught a lesson. “Pppppppppppppppeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee oooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn yyyyyyyyyyoooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrssssssssssseeeeeelllllllllfffffff. Tttttttttttaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeee aaaaaaaaa ccccccrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaapppppppppp iiiiiiinnnnnnnn yyyyyyyyoooooouuuuuurrrrrrrr ppppppppppaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnttttttttttiiii iiieeeeeeeeeessssssssssssss.” Warm yellow urine poured on the isle as the stench of feces seeped through the rows of the bus. The commotion caused by the passengers yelling at the grown woman who went in her clothes and coughing from the stench was too much for the rude woman who was covering her face from the embarrassment and crying that the little brat made her do it. The bus driver pulled over to get the commuters to settle down. When he did, Seth slipped passed the driver and got off the bus. He wasted no time heading for the nearest phone booth. Seth balled his fist and shook it. “I know what I must do.” He charged down the sidewalk not slowing down; a spirit of determination and passion possessed his body sending it charging in the nearest phone booth. Seth put two quarters into the pay phone and called Rita’s house.

“Hello,” said Rita.

“Hey, this is Seth. The Red Harpy’s in town. My mom said I had to go straight home. So could you leave me out this time?”

“No.”

“But my mom said I have to go home.”

“And I have to go to buy new school clothes with my brother. I can’t run off without TJ noticing me gone. You have to go without me.”

“You got to be kidding me.”

“It’s not my fault. Blame TJ.”

“What about the rest?”

“Calvin and Kevin are gone to Oregon to save a striped owl or something for their crazy mom. So I can’t get them.”

“What about Punchline?”

“NO!” Rita screamed. “Punchline can’t do missions anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so!” Rita hung up the phone.

“Dang it, Rita sounds like my dad.” Just as Seth hung up the phone, the booth rattled. “That was a sonic boom.” Seth peered into the sky and saw a speck flying towards the industrial district. “Red Harpy.” Seth ducked behind a dumpster and changed into his Deathtone costume and ran wide open towards the speck. But he couldn’t keep up and was running out of breath. Exhausted and frustrated, Seth slumped against a tree. “This is stupid,” he panted. “Rita ain’t helping me. So why should I fight the Red Harpy by myself.”

Punchline stood behind a podium looking over his lecture notes and adjusted the podium microphone in front of a crowd consisting of the stereotypical nerd: thick glasses, bow ties, and lab coats. Noticing his noose was leaning to the left, Punchline gently placed his notes on the podium and straightened the morbid neck tie. He picked up the stack of papers and then tossed them over his shoulders. The papers scattered all over the auditorium. “Hi everybody!”

The crowd greeted him in kind. “Hi Professor Punchline.”

“Today we’re doing something really cool. Mr. Whiskers, will you please.” Mr. Whiskers pushed a table into auditorium. A chain wrapped around the table biding Seth to the table.

“Punchline, this isn’t funny!” Seth mumbled through the muzzle on his face. He struggled against the chains but couldn’t pull himself a loose.

“The specimen doesn’t think this is funny. What’s your conclusion?” The crowd pointed and laughed at Seth.

“Punchline let me go.”

“The specimen is a mutant freak that blows stuff up with his mouth. Ain’t that right, Seth?”

“Punchline!”

“But I told my class we were dissecting today.”

“Dissection!”

“And guess who’s dissecting you?”

Rita was on the side of the table holding a chainsaw. “I warned you not to leave the team, Deathtone. But you wouldn’t listen.” Seth could feel the hum of the chainsaw as Rita cranked up the chainsaw and waved its hundreds of teeth over Seth’s chest.

Once Seth caught his breath, he put his daydreams on hold and started running again. But unlike earlier, Seth could barely make out the speck. “I’ll never make it on foot.” Seth ran some more until he came to a gas station. At one of the pumps, an unshaved man in racing clothes was gassing up his motorcycle. “Hey mister,” said Deathtone, “how fast can your bike go?”

The motorcyclist didn’t divert his attention from filling his gas tank. “This model supposed to be able to hit 210, but mine’s a custom job. I can get 250 easy.”

“Cool. Wanna go for a ride?”

The motorcade consisting of four police cars (two in front and two in back), a black limonene, and two police motorcycle strut through the city wailing their sirens. Judge Wanda Sims stolidly glanced at her escorts.

“So you sentence the Red Harpy to death row?” Officer Hannity sat to her left. The coat he usually wore was folded neatly and placed on the backboard. His gun and hoister which was normally concealed under the coat was now exposed.

“I don’t like the idea of it myself, but for what Carol Bonner did, I didn’t have a choice.” Her wrinkled ebony hand stroke her forearm nervously. She wore a brown skirt and coat and blue blouse.

“You’re okay your Honor?”

“I’m fine, Officer. I survived worse in forty years than a psycho in a bird suit.”

“It’s okay to be scared. Heaven knows I am.”

Judge Sims just turned her nose to Hannity. “Well that’s you, not me.” She was terrified and knew she had good reason to be, but she had too much pride to let anyone know that.

Hannity stuck his hand up to the judge. “Do you hear that?” At first, it could barely be heard over the limo’s engine, but the sound grew in intensity rapidly. Hannity yanked Judge Sims slamming her head in the seat and ducking along side her. Suddenly, in an instant, bright white sparks dispersed themselves all over the interior of the limo and then the roof flew off. Two seconds later, Judge Sims was plucked out of the limo. Hannity looked out of the new sunroof to see the Red Harpy towing Judge Sims behind her before they faded into two dots in the sky.

“Yyyyyyyyyooooooooouuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr gggggggggggggggooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggg tttttttttttttttttttttttttoooooooooooooooooooo sssssssssssssssssssllllllllllllllllllllllllloooooo oooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ssssssssssssssssssssppppppppppppppppeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeddddddddd ddddddddddddd uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuppppppppppppppppppp!!!!” Deathtone gripped the motorcyclist’s chest with an iron grip. Deathtone’s mouth was almost touching the motorcyclist’s ear in order for Seth’s voice to be heard over the growling engine. The custom made motorcycle weaved a red blur through the spaces between cars that appeared to be standing still.”

Seth scanned the sky for signs of the Red Harpy. She was heading in this direction, but now she was no longer in the city’s skyline. Of course, what could anyone expect: a motorcycle could only 250 mph while the Red Harpy was twice as fast as the speed of sound which was over 1400 mph. No way could he hope to catch her. This wouldn’t be a problem if that lousy Rita was here to teleport him around obstacles like the 18-wheeler that crossing the intersection. Eighteen-wheeler crossing the intersection! Just as the motorcycle was about to run another red light, an 18-wheel tractor trailer crosses the intersection about the same time Seth was. Startled, Seth grasped the motorcyclist’s chest and squeeze even harder. The motorcycle was only a few feet from colliding headlong into the trailer before a sonic blast hammered into the side of the trailer. The metal walls caved in and the frame bend and twisted sending the trailer flipping off the ground. The motorcycle sped through the space between the pieces of the carved-up trailer. Seth could barely catch his breath that was taken from him by his near-death experience. As he was panting for air, the driver started slowing down forcing Deathtone to resume his mind control voice.

A pair of red metallic claws gripped Judge Sims’ shoulders as it dangled from a bungee cord. Judge Sims ceased struggling against its iron grasp. Her face became stern; she didn’t blink once in her starring contest. “Carol,” the judge said with a tone that only an experience leader could muster up, “you have only yourself to blame for the mess you’re in. Killing me won’t make it any different.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-02-2005, 08:51 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Oh please,” chuckled the Red Harpy, “don’t flatter yourself grandma. You’re just bait on a hook.” The judge swung like a pendulum to the side circling around.

“Ttttttttttttuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnn n rrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiigggggggggggggggghhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhttttttttttttttttttttttttttt hhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeee eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Tttttttttttttttttttuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrr rnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggghhhhhhhh hhhhtttttttttttttttttttt hhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeee eeeeeeeeee!!!” The motorcyclist veered in the direction Deathtone pointed. Overhead, the two specks in the sky were now two women flying towards the city. Deathtone sized up the distance between him and the Red Harpy and let loose a sonic attack. The Red Harpy rattled in mid-air shaking the judge. Deathtone fired another low-powered sonic attack at the Red Harpy and shaking her up even more.

“Hey fish bait,” the Red Harpy mocked the judge, “looks like I got a bite.” The judge responded with a nasty and mean-looking scowl. The high flying villain doubled-back heading and flew to the outskirts of the city to a large grocery store and landed on the roof with Judge Sims on the ground still tethered to the cord and metal claws.

In seconds, the motorcycle slid into the parking lot directly in front of the Red Harpy. Seth launched himself backwards out of the seat. When Seth was first introduced to the Red Harpy, he found it difficult to keep a straight face. But in real life, her costume was the visage of a mythical beast that was part bird of prey, part snake, and part ram. A hawk with wings extended and talons spread open embroiled the chest plate as a yellow outline against the light red background of overlapping sheets of armor. Segments of dark red diamond-shaped plates composed the back side of her suit. Although she had bat-like wings, the Red Harpy’s armor resembled the scales on a red serpent. However, the helmet with the curled horns covering all but her mouth favored a ram.

“Took you Metadeliquents long enough.”

“Meta-what?” said Seth.

“Metadeliquents. @#$%, you kids are stupid. That’s what they call you on the news.”

“I don’t watch the news.”

“Nevermind. Where’s the rest of the Metadeliquents?”

“They couldn’t come.”

“WHAT THE @#$%@ DO YOU MEAN THEY COULDN’T COME!” The Red Harpy’s jet engine growled along with her outburst.

Seth was feeling a little nervous. She’s actually pissed that the good guys didn’t show up to stop her. “Um...they were busy.”

“Oh busy, huh? Well, then, let’s see how busy they are when I cut off yours and and granny’s heads. Your little friends’ll know I mean busy, then. And when I take them out, my rep’ll put even the Tamer and Diamond Joe to shame.”

So, that’s why the Red Harpy waited for me, thought Deathtone. She didn’t care about the judge. She just wanted me, Rita, and the rest of the team. Well, she ain’t getting us. A sonic blast was unleashed from Deathtone’s mouth heading toward the Red Harpy who, within a fraction of a second, rocketed out of its path and back into the air. The blast did cave in the back entrance to the store. Judge Sims was nearly buried underneath the debris.

“Hey watch it, stupid!” The judge snapped.

“Sorry.” Deathtone wailed at the Red Harpy again. He managed to hit her, but instead of knocking her out of the sky, all she did dance around the blows and gain altitude. Deathtone tried again and again but with the same results as before.

The Red Harpy flew in closer to the ground and switched on the loudspeaker on her neck. “Whoa, thanks for the thrill ride, kid. It’s like the old days riding hot air currents on a hang glider. That’s your superpower; blowing hot air, right?” The human chimera laughed. “I’d love to stay and chat but then again you’d be late for your own funeral.” The Red Harpy fired her jet engines and made a loop speeding towards Deathtone. The young superhero managed to duck out of the way only to be lifted off the ground by a gust of wind following in the Red Harpy’s wake and landing on his back coated with dust stirred up by the same wind. The Red Harpy made more passes each time Deathtone was being tossed around by the after suction affect. And each time, the Red Harpy inched closer to the ground.

“Don’t just lay there,” Judge Sims cried. “Do something.” Deathtone launched another sonic blast catching the Red Harpy off guard.

Deathtone pointed to the parking lot and yelled to the judge, “Run to the motorcycle!”

“What motorcycle?” The motorcycle was gone. The driver took off once he was no longer under Seth’s mind control.

“This isn’t my day.”

Suddenly, Judge Sims snatched Deathtone by the hand and led them though the parking lot to a hardware store in the same shopping center. The cashier, who was stacking boxes on the shelves, was alerted to Deathtone and Judge Sims’ presence by the door-chime. She ceased stocking the merchandise and welcomed the two new potential customers. “Welcome to Tool-co. May I help you?”

Deathtone’s mouth twisted into a sour scald. He recognized the woman as the one who was so rude to him on the bus.

“You’re one of those horrible Metadeliquents,” the woman gasped. “You need to get out right now.”

The judge stepped between Deathtone and the cashier. “Hold on a sec. He saved my life.”

“Hmp! Asking those brats for help? I’d never stoop so long.” Just then, the wall on the opposite end of the store was sliced just below the attic by a thin metal blade. Then the wall next to it was cut in half as well. Sliced up tools was tossed around the store. Then the same happened to the remaining two walls. The cashier then grabbed Deathtone by the collar and cried, “Please don’t let me die!” Deathtone tried pushing the hysterical cashier away but her grip was that of a steel trap. It took the top half of the store being dragged off to get Deathtone free. All three of them fell to the floor and covering their head from the falling grey concrete pieces and pink fiberglass insulation as well as the hammers, power tools, nails, and other tools in the store until they were all covered in a fine power of concrete and chunks of insulation. The same metal talons that snatched Judge Sims out from under the noise of her police escort were towing the roof off the house. The tether that the talons hung from retracted back into the Red Harpy’s suit who was circling for another attack.

Seth plunged behind an isle full of hammers and other metal tools. “Let’s see you dance your way though this.” Seth screamed out another sonic blast launching the tools in a shotgun pattern at the flying villain. The tools clanged when they hit her armored body. One item, an electric generator, knocked her in the head and spun her helmet around. She adjusted her helmet and was about to dive-bomb the store when she couldn’t spot either Deathtone or the judge. The Red Harpy landed next to the cashier who was hiding under the counter shivering. The Red Harpy shoved the cashier out of her hiding spot with her foot and yanked her up by her blouse.

“Where’d they go,” demanded the Red Harpy.

The cashier pointed to the back of the store. “In the woods.”

The Red Harpy shoved the cashier and rocketed back to the sky. She managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of Deathtone as he disappeared into the brush.

“Why’d you stop?” Judge Sims gestured with her hand to continue fleeing. “What you’d think you’re doing? Waiting on her?”

“I am.” Seth smirked at Sims. “She can’t use all her fancy moves in here.” The Red Harpy flew just above the trees. “You see? She can’t do anything to us now.” Suddenly, the top of one of the trees came crashing down almost nailing Seth in the head. Its fall snapped off branches from the other trees sending them to the ground. The judge and young superhero’s clothes were covered in bark and leaves. Then, other trees had their tops sliced off forcing the two to travel deeper into the woods.

“She’s trying to bring the trees down on our heads,” said the judge as she led Seth away by the hand. “If we can lose her in the woods and follow the interstate, I know somewhere safe were we can hide until...”

Seth braced his legs to stop the judge from taking him any further and wiggled his arm out of Sims’ grip. “Hey, I’m the one rescuing you; not the other way around.”

“Look, she’s bringing the woods down on our heads. You can’t say here and fight. At least we won’t have to worry about falling lumber where we’re going.” Sims continued back on the path but halted when she noticed Seth was still pouting. “Oh get over it.”

“All right already,” said Seth.

Three hours later

“I didn’t think we’d ever lose her.” Seth was covered with leaves and vines and twigs that he picked up going through the densely vegetated forest.

“You’re not kidding me. Whose idea was it to dress you kids like road flares?”

“What?”

“If you superkids used your brains, maybe you’d wear camouflaged. But y’all have to look cool beating up the bad guys.”

“It’s not my fault. Gatekeeper made me wear it.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-02-2005, 08:52 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Sure she did,” the judge said sarcastically. She took a cell phone out of her coat pocket and dialed 9-1-1. “Hello, this is Judge Sims. Tell the police we’re heading for the chemical plant just off the Interstate in half an hour.” Just then, Deathtone ripped the phone out of the judge’s hand. “Hey, you know better than snatching. You’re too big to be in kindergarten.” Deathtone ignored the bothersome old woman and dialed Rita’s house. The judge tried to get the phone back but Deathtone got just out of arm’s reach.

“I know how to get us out of here. Just let me borrow the phone.”

“Fine, but shouldn’t you be fighting the Red Harpy? You’re the superhero aren’t you?”

The phone clicked on. “This is TJ Williams. No one’s at home right now.”

“This ain’t fair!” Seth roared. “Why’d I have to fight the bird woman? Gatekeeper doesn’t have to. Punchline doesn’t have to. Dawn and Dusk don’t have to. But I do.”

“You poor baby,” said the judge sarcastically.

“And you? I’m the superhero, not you. You’re just being bossy.”

“That’s because you can’t think. For instance, cell phones record the number you dial. Now I have your little friends’ number.” Deathtone tossed the phone on the ground and destroyed it with a sonic blast, which also kicked up a lot of rotten leaves and dirt.

The judge smacked Seth on the back of the head. “You do know you can erase numbers off a cell phone.”

“Sorry.”

“’Sorry’ don’t get me a new phone. Besides, I’d thought you’d want to save the day by yourself.”

“And why’s that.”

“Because you’d get all of the glory; think about it, saving a fellow defender of justice from an evil supervillain. You’d have your name on the news and maybe some medal or something. That’ll show them, won’t it?”

Seth was daydreaming again. He was in his Deathtone uniform except no mask and a rather large gold medal pinned to his shirt. On his left shoulder, a blonde girl in a pink suit cut off at the naval and on his right, Naomi Styler. Both of them leaned their head on Seth’s shoulder while Seth wrapped his arms around them.

“This is Mary Nodell”, the young reporter introduced herself, “reporting live from a parade given to honor a brave, charming, and very handsome young man by the name of Seth Burrell, who rescued Judge Sims from the clutches of the vile and wicked Red Harpy.” The camera panned out and now caravan of floats with pictures of Seth’s face on them and one float with a giant balloon figure of Seth tied to it. The camera’s sight returned to Nodell. “So, Seth, who are these lovely young ladies?”

“I’m Naomi Styler. Before I knew about the real Seth Burrell, I thought he was a loser, but now, I think he’s the coolest and I’m Sethy-poo’s new girlfriend.”

“I’m Seth’s girlfriend!” screamed the blonde-haired girl.

Seth stepped between the girls. “Naomi, Nancy, you don’t have to fight. You both can be my girlfriends.” The two nuzzled Seth’s shoulders. “I can always use one more Mary.”

Nodell begin to blush at Seth’s offer. “And what about your other teammates? Do they get to be your parade even though they left you all alone to fight off the vile and wicket Red Harpy?”

“I’m not mad at them.”

“How kind of you.”

“And how cute you are?”

Nodell blushed some more. “You think I’m cute.” Nodell brushed back her strawberry blonde hair showing off her face.

“Of course. And I wouldn’t leave them out. I’m too nice to do that.”

At the very end of the parade, Gatekeeper, Punchline, Dusk, and Dawn trailed behind Mr. Whiskers who had a blue banner which read, “HOORAY FOR SETH”.

“Hey, Rita,” said Dusk, “why are we in this parade?” Just as Dusk was finished talking, a fart noise was made right in front of them. All of them grabbed their noses.

“We have to clean up behind Mr. Whiskers.” Punchline, Dawn, and Dusk pulled shovels behind their backs.

“Yuck!” said Dawn. “It’s bigger than the one from Jurassic Park.”

“Where’s mine?” asked Rita.

“You didn’t bring your own,” said Punchline. “Looks like you have to you use your hands.” Rita cringed at the thought of doing something so disgusting.

In the front of parade, Seth laughed while Mary, Naomi, and Nancy were hugging him.

“Earth to superkid. Earth to superkid.” Judge Sims rattled Deathtone back and forth trying to get his attention.

“Yeah,” said Seth.

“Are we going to the chemical plant or not?”

“Damn straight we are!” This time, it was Seth dragging the judge along by the arm.

“Where are you hiding?” The Red Harpy was perched on an oak tree talking to herself. “Lost them a mile back.” While trying to decide to continue following the interstate or look for them deeper into the woods, the Red Harpy was distracted by ten police cars, sirens blaring, heading down the interstate. “When in doubt...” The Red Harpy swooped down from the tree and tagged behind the police convoy.

“Whoa!” Deathtone took in the vast complex, which was large enough to fit two football fields in it. The perimeter of the plant was surrounded by a ten-foot tall chain link fence with barbed wire stringing the top with loops divided by a guard station and a crossing guard. The plant was populated by various buildings and equipment. An eight-story office building stood in the far right. Its surface was covered in dark-tented glass. The one next to it was a four story parking garage that was rather empty with cars occupying only the first floor. Three more buildings were on the far left of the facility. One of the buildings was low, only two stories, but it covered a fourth of the plant and on its right shoulder, various spherical and cylindrical tanks for industrial chemicals. Ten of the tanks, red and yellow with rust, were each the size of Seth’s house. A maze of grey pipes crisscrossed between each tank and leading to the next building. It was three stories tall with a giant air vents coming out of the top and an air conditioner, seven feet high, seven feet wide, and seven feet long, was on the side of the building. The final building was a five story dome-shaped building. Its hanger doors were wide enough for a two-lane road to run through it. “So, we just wait for help to get here, right?”

The judged nodded. “This place is built like a fortress. All we have to do is to wait for help to come.” Sims pointed to the right. “It doesn’t look like anyone is over there.” She twisted her wrist and pointed to the left. “We can hide out over there.” The judge and superhero walked to the large two-story building.”

“Thought I forgot about you, didn’t ya.” Judge Sims didn’t know about Deathtone, but her heart skipped a beat. The Red Harpy sat on the roof of the very building they were heading for. “I admit, you gave me the slip back there. I almost gave up, but then you had to call the cavalry. I followed the cop cars here and clipped their tires just after they got off the interstate.” The Red Harpy knocked on her wings with her knuckles. “By the time they get here, you’ll both be in that big courthouse in the sky.” The Red Harpy slid off the roof and fired up her engines propelling her into air. She made a loop and went after Deathtone before he hit the ground. She made another pass this time hitting Deathtone by tilting her wings at an angle and nailing him while he was still on the ground. Deathtone tumbled across the ground. “You’re turn’s next, granny.” Then, the Red Harpy was hit by a sonic blast knocking her left wing into the walls of two-story building embedding her wings into it.

“That hurt!” Deathtone held his left side with his right hand.

The Red Harpy fired up her engines and pushed herself off the wall and hovered above Deathtone. “Tough skin, huh.” Her wings became paper-thin and widened to twice its area. “This is how I can my wings can cut though anything, just like a razor blade. I bet you won’t survive this time.” While running to the dome building, Deathtone fired short bursts of his sonic blast at the Red Harpy who was dodging each one. “That’s right,” the Red Harpy shrieked, “run into the one building with enough room for me to fly.” The Red Harpy’s wings returned to their normal shape and barely fit though the doors. The dome building, apart from for rows of shelves on the side, was empty making it spacious enough for flight as the supervillain predicted. When she flew into the building, she couldn’t see Deathtone. She stopped and hovered in mid-air. He’s hiding in here somewhere, she thought, and glided around the aisles looking them over for Deathtone.

“Hey, bird woman!” Deathtone ducked from side of the door and ran out outside. “Let’s see you dodge this.” Deathtone screamed at the very ceiling.

“I’m right over here, stupid,” mocked the Red Harpy. “I don’t know why I even bother...” Suddenly, the Red Harpy was knocked back into the shelves knocking one over with caused the others to crash into the ground like dominos. “What the @#$@#!” Then, she heard it: Deathtone’s voice echoing throughout the entire building. The entire building was like a makeshift bell. Deathtone’s sonic blast bounced back and forth off

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-02-2005, 08:54 PM

(continued from the last post)

the walls, floor, and ceiling. The Red Harpy made a vain attempt to flee the deathtrap she found herself doped into, but she was being knocked to the sides by a dozen sonic blasts echoing at random across the building leaving her dazed and unable to fly out. Slabs of concrete rained off the ceiling with a few managing to smash into the Red Harpy’s wings denting them. Then one echo hit her jet engine bending the nozzle. She flew around the room uncontrollably until she crashed into the wall cracking a hole into it and falling to the ground.

“Had enough, bird woman,” Seth smirk with the proverbial ‘cat that just swallowed the canary’ look. “You wanted to fight us all, and you couldn’t take me one-on-one. I’m too much for you bird woman.” Then, right behind Seth, there was the noise of footsteps and heavy breathing. The police officers that the Red Harpy ambushed finally made it on foot to the chemical plant.

“We finally caught you,” said one of the officers still gasping for air.

“I caught her, not you.” The officers drew their pistols and pointed them at Seth.

“You are under arrest. Put your hands in the air and keep your mouth shut or else we’ll open fire.”

“We’re really going to shoot a kid?” One of the officers protested.

“Shut your trap, patrolman, and do what you’re told.”

Suddenly, a giant hole was knocked into the wall. Mr. Whispers grabbed Seth by his shirt with his mouth and hopped out of the chemical plant.

“Punchline?” Seth peered up at Punchline riding on top of Mr. Whiskers. “Did Rita send you?” Mr. Whiskers stopped and put Seth on the ground.

Punchline shook his head. “I listened to everything on my police scanner,” said Punchline, “and they said you were by yourself. They also called you names like ‘assailant’ and ‘suspect’. Their moms need to put hot sauce on their tongues for talking dirty.”

“Took you long enough.”

“That’s because I told Punchline he couldn’t come on missions anymore.” Rita was in her regular clothes, so her seething and angry expression was no longer hidden to the two boys. She opened two portals: one to Seth’s room and the other to Punchline’s camp. “You two go home, you caused enough trouble today.”

“Caused trouble?” Seth stomped his foot. “I save a judge from that bird woman.”

Rita walked into Seth’s room and turned on his TV and punched ‘play’ on his VCR. Mary Nodell was on television standing in front of the dome building Seth trapped the Red Harpy in. “Not only did the suspect destroyed a truck carrying medicine to a local hospital, but the destruction of one our local plants has cost a thousand people their jobs. For the good of the world, these Metadeliquents must be stopped.” The camera turned to Judge Sims and a plump balding man with a thick mustache. “Judge Sims, do you have any comments on what sort of jail time the suspect could be facing.”

Judge Sims yanked Nodell by the arm and talked into the mike. “That kid’s a hero. He saved my...”

The bald man shoved Sims to the side. “I assure you, he will be brought to justice and we won’t show any mercy on him even if he eight-years old.”

“I’m eleven and a half,” Seth whined.

“Who cares? You wrecked the whole city.”

“That’s your fault. I didn’t have any help. If I did, then...then...”

“Property damage would be kept to a minimum,” said Punchline, who promptly shut up when Rita gave him a nasty look. Punchline and Mr. Whiskers climbed into the portal.

“What Punchline said: less stuff broken.”

“You’re right, Seth.” Rita sighed. “I left you all alone. And you did your best.”

“Darn right, I did.”

Rita took off Seth’s mask and gently ran her finger over a bruise on Seth’s temple. “Look where she hurt you.” Rita pulled Seth’s head down and kissed his bruise. “That should make it better.”

“Um...Rita?”

“There’s a boo-boo on your lip.” Seth was about to say something, but Rita put her finger on his lips. “Don’t say a word.” Rita leaned into Seth, closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and...

“Seth!” Seth snapped out of his daydream and back to the reality of Rita Williams jumping down his throat. “You said my name. Whadda want?”

“Nothing Rita. Nothing.” Seth walked though the portal to his room. “Things couldn’t get worse.”

Riker’s Island

A row of pay phones ran across the wall. A prison guard stood in front of the only exit from the room waiting for the prisoners to make the one phone call every prisoner is entitled to. On one of the phones, the phone receiver was held up against the familiar face of Bob North. In one hand, he held a piece of notebook paper that was folded in eight sections. He frantically typed in a phone number only to punch the wrong button forcing him to mash the hook. Bob North took a deep breath and glanced over the piece of paper. On that paper were the names, addresses, and phone numbers of the Metadeliquents. North had everything planned out: he would call Rita and tell her if she didn’t break him out of prison, he would tell the world she was the Gatekeeper. He slipped the list back into his pocket as he listened to the phone ring on the other end.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line was that of a young man’s. Maybe Rita’s brother, thought North. Just as he was about to ask for Rita, two men in black suits pulled him away from the phone letting it hit the ground.

“Just where the @#$%@$ are you taking me too!” North yelped out as he was forcefully led out of the room. “Don’t just stand there,” North cried out to one of the prison guards as he tried pulling away from the two black-suited men before they grabbed him with his heels dragging on the floor, “help me!” But Bob North’s pleads were ignored. The other prisoners gazed at the door in shock with only the voice from North’s phone breaking the silence.

“TJ, who was that on the phone,” asked Rita.

“Nobody,” said TJ as he put the phone back on the hook, “probably just a telemarketer.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things aren’t going so well for Rita. Her team is falling apart at the seems and everyone thinks they’re bad guys. And now it looks like someone else will know the Metadeliquents’ secret identities. Is there anyone that can save the Metadeliquents? Well, Rita’s getting some help on her people skills from an unlikely source from a mysterious foreign exchange student. Tune in for the next issue of Metadeliquents.

CrossoverManiac

01-05-2005, 11:39 PM

Here's a black and white pic of the Red Harpy.

CrossoverManiac

01-13-2005, 08:27 PM

Metadeliquents: Issue 10
Sisterhood: Rita gets a new friend...whether she likes it or not
All characters are the intellectual property of Timothy Weaver, alias, Crossover Maniac.

The silence inside Rita’s room was broken by the electrical arcing of a portal. The Gatekeeper stumbled out of the vortex and flopped on the bed face first and arms extended. The white pillow with frills on Rita’s bed made an excellent muffle for the young superheroine’s pain-wretched moans. Her whole body was sore from her last mission.

Flashback

The sound from multiple machine guns firing on opposite sides of a pothole ridden street and bullets striking metal and brick orchestrated a symphony of death for the inner city neighborhood of Los Angeles. It all started rather innocently. One car cut in front of another. One problem: the drivers of both cars were from rival gangs and let’s just say one of them has been forced into an early retirement. It doesn’t matter who was at fault or even which gangs were involved. The gang bangers wanting to prove themselves now have their excuse to scratch their itchy trigger fingers and use each other for target practice. Worse was the fact that most of their bullets missed their targets and were coming dangerously close to hitting the law-biding residents. The gang bangers hid behind bullet-riddled cars peeking out busted door windows, shooting, and ducking back down. Occasionally, someone would look out their window and then duck back down and pray for an end to the ensuring gangwar.

Gatekeeper, Deathtone, Dawn and Dusk teleported on the corner of the block which grabbed the attention of the warring gang bangers away from killing each other. The Gatekeeper ran between the two sides and held her arms out as if to separate the two. “Stop shooting and put down your guns or else we’ll make you.” The gang members’ reply was to bombard Rita with a storm of lead. Fortunately, Punchline made all of the Metadeliquents bulletproof costumes. However, the bullets still had some effort as they knocked the Gatekeeper back and forth. Punch-drunk and dizzy from her blows, the Gatekeeper collapsed on her knees before hitting the asphalt face first. The Gatekeeper forced herself up and yelled “Everyone duck!” out to her team mates only to notice it was too late. By the time she recovered, Deathtone and the twins made short work of both gangs. The gang bangers were either blinded, reeling on the ground, pinned under Dusk’s shadow, or with their hands and their guns on the ground.

“That’ll show’em.” Rita groaned remembering Seth’s snide remark.

End of Flashback

Rita slowly peeled off her uniform and ached the entire time. As she was getting into her night clothes, her door swung opened with her brother TJ rushing into the room.

“Rita, I need you to do me a really big favor.”

Rita’s replied by throwing a pillow at her brother. “How many times I told you to knock,” she yelled.

“Um, I’m sorry sis.” TJ retreated from the room and then knocked on the door.

“Now, you can come in.” TJ carefully peered his head through the doorway. When he determined it was safe to come in, TJ crept inside and sat on Rita’s bed. “Rita, what are those red spots on you?”

“Great,” thought Rita, “he saw where I got shot.” Rita concentrated for a second. “I went over to a friend’s house and played with paintball guns.”

“Just remember to wear goggles,” said TJ, “I don’t want you losing an eye.” TJ then gave Rita a really big smile.”

“Oh boy,” Rita dreaded, “it must be a dozy.” TJ always goes into suck-up mode whenever he wants Rita do him ‘a favor’, and it usually involves a girl.

TJ patted Rita on the back. “You know Megumi, right?”

How could she forget Megumi? The way TJ gushed all over her made Rita cringed.

“Megumi’s got a little sister named Hitomi and she’s staying with her here, and she’s in your grade. I told Megumi you’d show Hitomi around.” TJ hugged Rita tightly and cried. “You wouldn’t leave that little girl all alone without a friend would you?”

Rita shoved her brother away. “Lay off the guilt trip will ya. You only want me to play tour guide for Megumi.” TJ looked to the side. “Besides, you told me to stop fooling around with my friends because they’d make me flunk fifth grade (actually, she was with the Metadeliquents). I can’t neglect school for Megumi.”

“So how long you want your curfew extended.” TJ looked at Rita with sulking eyes.

“Two hours.”

“Please you already get till 8 pm on school nights and 9 on weekends. That’s enough already.”

“One hour, and I’m not going any lower.”

“If I let you, you can’t let your grades drop or the deal’s off.” TJ held out his hand. “Deal?”

“I want it in writing.”

The following morning

Rita hastily paced around the block. Megumi’s sister was supposed to meet her twenty minutes ago, and she still haven’t shown. Any minute now, the bus will show up. Rita reassured herself that if she did this, she would have more time for her missions and wouldn’t have to worry about meeting her brother’s earlier curfew. Just then, Rita heard the roar of the old yellow school bus’ diesel engine. Well, Megumi’s little sister would just have to wait till tomorrow for her tour. Just as Rita turned the corner, she was bearing down at a stampeding Oriental girl with a jelly donut in her mouth mumbling that she was late over and over again heading straight for her. The two collided head on knocking Rita on her back and the other girl on top of her. Once she pushed the other girl off, Rita picked herself up and wiped the remains of the jelly donut off her face.

The girl clinched her hands together as her eyes watered up. “Gomen naisai! Gomen naisai! Gomen naisai! Gomen naisai! Gomen naisai! Gomen naisai!”

“Gomen naisai,” asked a bewildered Rita?

“It means ‘I’m sorry’. I’m terribly, terribly sorry. I was supposed to meet a girl here half an hour ago, and I woke up late because I had this nice dream about this cute boy...”

“You’re Hitomi Ida, right?”

The girl nodded her head and whispered, “Rita?” The girl started apologizing to Rita again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

Rita ignored Hitomi’s apology and centered her attention to the bus heading up the road. She pulled Hitomi by her Japanese-style dark blue school uniform with red scarf towards their bus stop. Racing along side them was their bus which drove on by while some of the kids laughed and pointed at the two girls.

“Thanks for making me late,” Rita scolded the pig-tailed Japanese girl who started to whimper and then wailed like a baby who lost his favorite toy. “Wait! I’m not mad at you,” said Rita trying to calm Hitomi down.

“You’re not just saying that?”

Rita pushed back the urge to tell the girl off. “I mean it.”

Hitomi pounced on Rita hugging her. “Oh thank you so much.” Hitomi took Rita by the hand and hopped off to school singing some little song in Japanese.

Rita and Hitomi ran into homeroom as Mrs. Yohringer was making her way out of the classroom.

“Rita,” said the old teacher, “why are you late? First period is halfway over.”

“Mrs. Yohringer, I can explain,” said Rita.

“It was my fault.” Hitomi stepped in front of Rita. “I got lost on the way to the bus stop, and Rita found me. But the bus left her.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Yohringer, “you were late helping our new foreign exchange student. I guess I can write you an excuse for being late for class.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hitomi smiled at Mrs. Yohringer.

“But don’t make a habit of it.”

Rita gave Hitomi a nasty glare. “We won’t Mrs. Yohringer, right Hitomi.”

“Right, Rita,” said Hitomi nervously as she put her hand on the back of her head.

It was the break after third period. So far, Hitomi kept close to Rita: sitting next each and walking side by side to class. By coincidence, both Rita and Hitomi had the same classes in the period. Rita set down on the bench in the rear of the snack room. Hitomi was making her way to the back with Rita, when a couple of girls got in her way. In the center of the group was a girl with beautiful black hair and blue eyes. She looked arrogant and sure of herself and stood in front of the rest of the girls folding her arms on her chest. Hitomi immediately got the impression she was the leader of the group.

“Can I help you?” asked Hitomi politely.

“No, but I can help you,” said the girl. Naomi looked Hitomi over circling her; sizing her up. “You have pretty clothes.”

Hitomi tugged on her dress. “Oh, this? It’s only my old school uniform.”

“You must be Hitomi.” Naomi smiled when Hitomi nodded her head ‘yes’. “My name is Naomi Styler. My granddaddy used to be the governor and my daddy’s rich. And I’m the most popular girl in school.”

Hitomi closed her eyes and smiled at Naomi. “How lucky you are!”

“Well yeah, and lucky for you, I’m going to save you from being a social dweeb.”

Hitomi touched her chin with her finger. “A social dweeb?”

“Don’t you know who that girl really is?” Naomi pointed to Rita who just noticed Naomi and Hitomi together. “She’s Rita Williams. Her father’s used to burn down buildings till he got caught in one and burned up in it. And she beat me up just when I tried cheering her up after he died.”

(continued on the next thread)

CrossoverManiac

01-13-2005, 08:29 PM

(continued from the previous thread)

“That doesn’t sound at all like Rita.”

“Her whole family is full of psychos.”

“But she’s been so nice to me even when I made her late for class.”

“She likes pretending to be a nice girl. Rita’s really evil.”

Hitomi pushed her way through Naomi and her gang. “I don’t care. Rita’s a good person. And I don’t care if her father is evil. Rita’s isn’t.”

Naomi and her bunch folded their arms and leered at Hitomi. “You heard her. She wants to be with Rita. Let’s go. She’s a lost cause.” The girls shoved her as each of them walked by.

“Don’t you believe a word coming out of Naomi’s mouth,” said Rita with anger in her voice.

Hitomi closed her eyes and gave Rita a warm smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t.”

Rita grinned ever so slightly. “Umm, thanks.”

Mr. Wallace was always a consistent man who never changes his routine, and this was reflected in his forth period math class. “Seven times two is 14. Seven times two is 14. Remember class, it is a one and a four.” As usual, the class was bored to tears as Mr. Wallace repeated the multiplication table over and over again. Rita slumped over in his desk wondering why this man was teaching third grade math to fifth graders. Every Monday, Mr. Wallace would go over the multiplication table to make sure the students remember. Hitomi sat two rows to Rita’s right scribbling on a piece of paper. She passed the paper to a plump, short-haired girl next to her left and that girl passed the paper to Rita. Rita opened the note that read, ‘Who’s your favorite singer________________. Mine is Yui Sato”. She wrote on the line and passed it back to Hitomi, who didn’t quite like Rita’s reply. ‘Not now. We’re in class’. Hitomi wrote another note and passed it back at Rita. “Can’t wait. Please tell me_______________.’. Rita wrote on the paper ‘Megaton BBQ’ and sent it back. Hitomi wrote on another piece of paper and sent it back to Rita asking what songs Megaton BBQ sings. Rita passed back the paper. Hitomi read the list of songs: “Death to You All”, “Blood Bath”, “Hollow Point”, and “I Love Hate”. Hitomi’s forehead had a sweat drop run across it. Hitomi passed another note to Rita asking her to stop kidding. Rita had a puzzled look on her face and passed back the note to Hitomi which read ‘Why would I be kidding?’ Hitomi passed her another note changing the subject, unfortunately, the note was intercepted by Mr. Wallace.

“So you like passing notes?” Mr. Wallace said to Rita. “Well, let’s see what was so important that it couldn’t wait till after class Miss Williams: ‘who is your boyfriend’.” The class erupted in laughter.

“Psycho Rita doesn’t have a boyfriend,” laughed brown-haired girl.

“Maybe she has one in jail,” said a red-haired freckled boy. Rita shielded her face in his arms completely embarrassed.

Rita matched off the bus with Hitomi following. She kept her eyes locked to the front of the sidewalk not looking back much to Hitomi’s dismay. “Please Rita, don’t be mad at me.”

“I told you to stop passing notes. I only wrote you back because you wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“I just wanted to know more about you. But instead, you made up that weird stuff.

“I didn’t make up Megaton BBQ.”

“That’s a real group?”

Rita nodded her head. “It’s a heavy metal band. What sort of band is Yui Sato?”

“She isn’t a band. Yui Sato is an idol singer.”

“Idol singer?”

“She sings pop music.”

Rita rolled her eyes. “Not another pop singer.”

“You don’t like pop?”

“Please, it’s all the same.”

“No it isn’t. Heavy metal, now that’s what sounds the same.”

Rita spun around and said defensively, “Megaton BBQ has its own style.”

Hitomi grinned wickedly. “So you really like them.”

Rita glared at Hitomi and quickly turned around. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you. I’m still mad at you. Now the kids have something else to tease me...” Rita noticed that Hitomi wasn’t following her anymore, “...about.” Rita looked around and saw Hitomi talking with two middle school boys hanging out at a gas station. The first one had baggy pants going almost down to his knees and a really long basketball jersey and had a little bit of facial hair on his chin. The second one was wearing short pants and blue button-up shirt with a ninja on it and had long sideburns and spiky hair. Hitomi caught Rita in the corner of her eyes. She immediately ran back to Rita and dragged her to the boys. “This is Rita.” She looked at Rita and said, “I told them all about you.”

“Hey Hitomi,” said the unshaved boy, “Rita is cute like you said.” Rita tried to back away but Hitomi held on to her wrist while looking at Rita with a mischievous smile.

“I still think Hitomi’s hotter,” said the boy with the sideburns. The boy’s compliment was not unappreciated as Hitomi gazed at the boy with the sideburn with starry eyes.

“Hitomi,” said Rita, “they’re too old for you. They look like high schoolers.” Rita wasn’t able to reach the mesmerized Hitomi. “Fine then.” Rita ran behind the store.

At that point, Hitomi took noticed and ran after her. “Rita, I told them you needed a boyfriend. I can’t go double-dating without you.” Hitomi couldn’t see Rita even though there was no place for her to go. She called out to Rita again but couldn’t get a response. Hitomi whined to herself and walked back to the guys when the ground swallowed up the two boys. She ran to the spot where they were, stared at it, and knelt down calling out to the two boys. A rather large elderly woman in a dress stared at the strange child talking to the driveway. As she was moving her hands along the surface of the pavement, the two boys ran out of a newly opened portal.

“...And date girls your age!” The Gatekeeper said as she shook her fist at the two boys. Rita, as the Gatekeeper, put her hand on Hitomi’s shoulder. “Are you okay? Those boys didn’t hurt you did they?”

As Rita was talking, Hitomi’s face slowly turned red. She curled up her lips and stomped her foot on the ground. “Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka! Baka!” The Gatekeeper flinched back and stepped away from Hitomi. “And that means ‘stupid’.”

“But I was just...”

“You were just keeping me from finding true love,” said Hitomi as her eyes got watery. She put her hands together and laid them across a chest. “This delicate flower will wither and blow away like dust in the wind if it’s not watered with affection and the light of love doesn’t shine.”

The Gatekeeper just nodded her head and disappeared into a portal while whispering under her breath, “Drama queen.” A few minutes later, Rita, in her regular school clothes, came out from behind the gas station.

“What happened?” asked Rita. “I heard you screaming. Is everything all right?”

“No it isn’t. That Gatekeeper girl scared away my boyfriend and Rita’s too.”

Rita put her hands on her waist. “Well, she should. Those boys are too old for you.”

Hitomi turned her head away from Rita trying not to make eye contact. “But they didn’t seem bad.”

“But they could have, and probably were if they were hitting on girls our age.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hitomi snorted. “But...”

“But what?”

“But they were so cute.” Rita slapped her own forehead in frustration.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for even a minute?” Hitomi looked doe-eyed at Rita who was resolute and stoic.

“I told you, I have something important to do today.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“I guess I can come Friday,” Rita sighed.

Hitomi perked up and leaped on Rita hugging her. “Oh thank you, Rita.”

“Not so tight.” Rita was turning blue in Hitomi’s grip.

“Oops!” Hitomi let go of Rita and waved goodbye.

(continue on the next thread)

CrossoverManiac

01-13-2005, 08:31 PM

(continued from previous post)

Once she was certain no one could see her, Rita teleported back home, changed into her Gatekeeper uniform, and teleported into a cemetery. She frantically ran back and forth until she came across the groundskeeper. “Excuse me, sir, but do you know where the funeral for Noah Pavlov is?”

“You one of those Metadeliquents, aren’t ya?” said the groundskeeper.

“That’s not what we’re called.” Rita didn’t hide the disapproval in her voice at the name ‘Metadeliquents’. She has been too busy to give their superhero team a name. She toyed with the name Justice Kids but it sounded corny. It was just that Metadeliquents was more of a supervillain team’s name. “But yeah, I’m a superhero.”

“Better hurry, the funeral almost over.”

“What! I was only a minute late.”

The groundskeeper pointed to the left. “You’ll see what I’m talking about.” In that direction, a minister and two pallbearers closed the top lid of a casket. Just before they closed the casket, the young superheroine got a glimpse of Noah Pavlov’s face. Rita immediately teleported in front of the minister. “Please don’t stop the funeral,” Rita asked frantically.

“Are you the one that exposed Noah’s killer?” the minister asked Rita, whom replied with a nod.

“I’m the Gatekeeper.”

“Well, Gatekeeper, you’re late. You should never be late for anyone’s funeral.”

“I’m sorry pastor.”

“It’s ‘father’, I’m a Catholic priest.”

“I’m sorry father, but I was busy with...um...stuff.”

“I imagine a superhero would be.” The priest took a seat on one of the folding chairs. “I didn’t think anyone would show up.”

“You mean I’m the only one here?”

“Noah was an only child with deceased parents, and he didn’t make friends very well.”

“He was a little dorky, but no one?”

“Noah was a quiet man. He didn’t really talk to people, and the few times he did, he scared them away. It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone, he was just different.”

As the priest was talking, Rita couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting. Each time he mentioned Noah, Rita, in her mind, substituted ‘Noah’ with ‘Punchline’.

{No, Rita, Punchline’s a traitor. Don’t feel sorry for him.}

{And what if Punchline’s been treated like Noah?}

{Excuses, excuses.}

{But if the only person in the world that loved you was in danger, wouldn’t you do anything to save him?}

{It’s a giant mutant rabbit, not a person.}

{But that giant mutant rabbit loves Punchline, no one else did. Maybe things would be different if people were nicer to him.}

{Why be nice to that weirdo? Why waste your time on him?}

{Just like Hitomi wasted her time on me.}

“...so you understand, right?” asked the priest.

“Yes, father.” The priest and pallbearers began to lower the casket into the earth. “Wait, what about Noah’s funeral?”

“We just had it, Gatekeeper.”

Rita realized that the priest’s little talk was his sermon for Noah. “I have to go.”

“Take care and God bless...,” said the priest as Rita hastily opened a portal and leaped right in almost tripping over, “...you.”

The portal took Rita to Punchline’s campsite. Rita waited till almost sunset when the good evil clown finally came out of the woods with a pile of firewood cradled in his arms. He still has that same misery look from the last time Rita talked to him.

“Gatekeeper,” Punchline moped, “you want me to invent some stuff for you?”

“No, I just wanna talk.” Punchline dumped his firewood on the ground. “You did a bad thing selling us out to the Tamer. And I don’t know if I can believe anything you say.” Punchline turned his face away from Rita. “But...”

“But what?”

Rita remained silent; trying to muster up the right words. “I can be still your friend.” Suddenly, Punchline pounced on the Gatekeeper followed by Mr. Whiskers. As with the first time they met, Punchline smeared clown makeup all over Rita’s mask, but this time, Mr. Whiskers drooled all over Rita leaving a thick layer of saliva on her. “Yuck!” said Rita.

“You’re not mad at us, Gatekeeper?” Punchline’s sad puppy dog eyes beamed down on Rita.

“Oh no, I need a bath anyway.” Punchline smiled and continued hugging Rita while Mr. Whiskers applied more drool on Rita. “So long as no one knows who we really are, everything will be okay.” The group hug took a pause with the unsettling reminder that someone indeed knew their secret identities.

It’s said one of the worst torture is to deprive one of all five of their senses. Bob North was learning that first hand. His entire body was numb for the untold hours spent handcuffed to a chair. He would occasionally fidget around in his chair restless from his captivity. Not like he could go anywhere. He couldn’t see in the total and complete absence of even the diffused light of the midnight sky shining through the curtains of a bedroom window on a moonless night. He was even denied sound. No speech, no footsteps, nothing save for his own breathing. So, when an overhead spotlight blinded his light-sensitive eyes and a voice calling out his name boomed out from a speaker hurting his ears, he felt relieved that he received a reprieve from hell.

“Mr. North, am I correct in believing you are the Tamer?” The voice had a distinct accent that North has never heard before. “Mr. North, answer the question.”

“Yeah, that’s right, and you are?” said North.

“And did a superhero named Punchline work for you?” the voice asked ignoring North’s question.

“Yeah, he worked for me. I always ask my henchmen to double-cross me and make a fool out of me IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE WORLD!”

“You look upset.”

“I’ve been locked up here forever. Whadda think?”

“But I have so much to offer you, Mr. North.”

“Like what?”

“We have a common enemy; an enemy that hides behind masks.”

“And I know who they really are.”

“Satoshi, give him back the list.” A handsome, young Asian man dressed in a white button-up shirt and a red T-shirt underneath with blue khakis with light brown, almost blonde shoulder-length hair, light complexion and graceful, almost feminine features gave the list back to North. “Tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

“This is a forgery,” said Satoshi.

“A forgery?”

“We checked out the names and addresses on the list. There is no Rita Williams, no Seth Burrell, or Calvin and Kevin Levy. The number you called was to a gas station.”

“That lying clown! I can’t wait to get my hands around his throat.”

“You won’t have to wait for long,” said the voice. “Your animal control technology; it’s impressive, but it could be more user friendly; preferably, minimization and a cybernetic link.”

“Mental control?”

“Yes, but you must have an operation first, and that requires trust on your part. Do you trust me?”

“Not really, but I’ll take a gamble.”

“Good.” The owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows revealing himself as a tall, thin man with thin, straight grey hair with a bald spot at the very top and a hooked nose and grey eyes wearing a brown suit, beige shirt, and blue tie. He held out his hand for North to shake.

“First, I want to know your name.”

“Osric of Camlann.”

“That’s an unusual name.”

“Or if you prefer, you can call me by the nickname that was given to me, the Alchemist.” The Alchemist led North outside the room and pointed down a long corridor. “Walk through those doors at the end of the hall, and the doctors will take care of you.” When North left, the Alchemist leaned over Satoshi’s shoulder. “You have more than earned your keep, Satoshi.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No matter how many times I see you in action, you still amaze me. The moron didn’t doubt you for a second.” Satoshi’s smile revealed the pride he took for his special skill. “That’s why, next to my Holy Warrior, you are my greatest weapon.”

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Just when things were looking up for Rita, and just who is the Alchemist and what power does his minion have over the minds of men? And who or what is this Holy Warrior? Find out in future installments of Metadeliquents.

CrossoverManiac

01-13-2005, 08:39 PM

If anyone read this story, please tell me what you think of it whether or not you like it.

CrossoverManiac

04-12-2005, 11:16 PM

Metadeliquents: Issue 11
N’Shash’s Revenge: The Vendetta from Beyond the Stars
Characters are mine. Not that anyone would bother stealing them from me in the first place. 

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N’Shash was never the one to accept defeat. Even with her arms and neck shackled to chains and being escorted by the 8 foot tall brutish-looking bodyguards of the Vadda’Ra Supreme Tribunal, N’Shash’s eyes focus at the ominous black doors guarded by bodyguards of equal size and statute to N’Shash’s escorts. The bodyguards escorting N’Shash bowed their heads down and handed their prisoner to the guards at the door. They led N’Shash to a room with a stage raised eight feet in the very back and a podium in the center raised four feet off the ground. N’Shash waited for the guards to unshackle her and then marched up the spiral stairway to the top of the elevated podium.

Three robed figures were each seated on a throne; their pink snouts protruding out of the shadow of their hoods. The middle figure tapped a tiny gong with a stick bringing the trial of Geegornoff N’Shash in session. “Colonel N’Shash,” said the middle robed figure, “you have been charged with gross incompetence and negligence. This tribunal has reviewed the charges and is awaiting your defense.”

“I’ve already told you, this is all the Storytellers’ fault.” The Supreme Tribunal grunted at N’Shash’s defense.

The judge on the left of N’Shash spoke. “Then where’s your proof?” The judge slammed her hand into her armrest. “If we let you get away with claiming a Storyteller sabotage your mission, then every soldier in the Vadda’Ra military will blame Storytellers for their mistakes. We’d never seen an end to the chaos.”

“No proof!” N’Shash leaped off the podium and ran to the bottom of the stage. “My soldiers have testified on my behalf.”

The middle judge banged on the gong again. “Take your place Colonel, or I’ll have you back in chains for the duration of this trial.” N’Shash walked back up to the podium not once taking her eyes off the Supreme Tribunal.

The judge on the right, who remained silence during the trial, finally spoke. “It is true the humans had powers their level of technology could never give them, that alone isn’t proof a Storyteller sabotage your mission. And because you failed, the marker proving Vadda’Ra explorers discovered Earth before the Shangra and making us the rightful owners of the Earth and its solar system was destroyed leaving that world in the hands of our enemies once again. The Vadda’Ra Empire lost that star system, its resources, and six billion potential slaves all because the marker you were sent to protect was destroyed by humans.”

“You were supposed to be this generation’s greatest soldier,” the judge on the left shook her finger at N’Shash. The sleeves of her robe pulled back exposing her naked pink arm, “and you couldn’t even guard a slab of granite.”

The judge on the right held her hand out silencing her fellow member of the Tribunal. “We would like to believe one of our most decorated soldiers, the star of the Sanrist Military Academy, and the hero of the Delva Wars, failed her mission because of circumstances beyond her control, but without proof, we must find you guilty of gross incompetence and negligence.”

“Geegornoff N’Shash, for losing the Earth system, there is no punishment that fits your crime except execution. But your past military record has saved your life. But the same can not be said of your career. You are hereby discharged from the Vadda’Ra military in disgrace.”

N’Shash’s response to the plea made the judge on the right bury her head in her naked, clawed hands. “I call for an appeal.”

“You know,” said the middle judge unemotionally, “you nullify our verdict and risk execution if you petition the Queen Mother directly.”

“I know, but I don’t care.”

“So be it,” and the middle judge rang the gong. “This case is hereby remanded to the Queen Mother. You are free to go N’Shash until your trial date three weeks from today.” The judge was about to walk off before stopping and said, “That’s three weeks for you to change your mind and accept our merciful judgment.”

The judge on the right crept off the stage and stood in front of N’Shash. She pulled her hood off, snarled, and bit into N’Shash’s ear. N’Shash pulled away holding her bleeding ear. “You stupid little girl!” said the judge while spitting blood out of her mouth. “I gave you a second chance and you threw it away.”

“You call that a second chance. I’d rather die and lose my honor, Diesha”

“Almost no one ever appealed to the Queen Mother without a harsher punishment. That’s why no one rejects the judgment of the Supreme Tribunal.” Diesha wiped the blood with her robe. “I promised your mother I’d take care of her hatchlings before she died. You’ve been like the daughter I never had, Geegornoff. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’d rather I live in shame for the rest of my life.”

Diesha turned her back from N’Shash. “The outer colonies; no one judges you in the outer colonies. The word ‘shame’ has no meaning there. With your ambition and talents, you can prosper in the outer colonies.”

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Geegornoff made her way through the circular hallway to the apartment of her sister V’ger and knocked on her door. The door slid to the side. V’ger, a Vadda’Ra with grey fur with black patches, licked Geegornoff on her face who then returned her sister’s greeting by also licking her back. “Diesha told me everything on the videophone Gee-Gee.” Geegornoff rubbed her ear where Diesha bit her. Though completely healed, the shock of being bitten was still fresh in Geegornoff’s memory. V’ger led Geegornoff to the table on the floor with pillows surrounding it and letting her recline on the pillows. “You just relax Gee-Gee while I get you something fresh from the pin.”

“You, serving food? Where Borsh?”

“Huh. He nagged one time too many and I sent him packing. I won’t waste my time breaking a willful man that doesn’t already know his place.”

“Men these days. They’d have us tending to the house and raising children.”

“So, you’re going through with it?”

“Yes.”

V’ger smiled at her sister. “I don’t care what Diesha says, going to the Queen Mother is a good idea.” Geegornoff didn’t look enthused despite her sister’s encouragement.

“Not without proof, it’ll be the Supreme Tribunal all over again. No Diesha’s right. I’ll thinking about going to the Tribunal and tell them I’m dropping my appeal.”

“If that’s what you want.” V’ger comes back into the room with two hamster-like creatures in cages and laying one down in front of Geegornoff. “I mean even if they kick you out of the Special Forces, you got more out of the military than me. I’m still a lieutenant filing paperwork.” V’ger played around her hamster as it tries fleeing from her. “It’s too bad you couldn’t drag one of those human freaks back to the home world. I’d bet the royal interrogators would make her remember the Storytellers. But that’s just talk.”

“That would be all the proof I need.”

“But you can’t get back to Earth, can you?”

“Why not? I can pilot a ship.”

“And where are you getting the ship?”

“I need your pistol,” said Geegornoff with her paw extended.

“V’ger pulled a pistol inside a vase. “If you get caught...”

“I stole it.” Geegornoff licked V’ger and ran off with her hamster before tossing it in her mouth.

V’ger watched Geegornoff disappear down the circular hallway before running to her videophone. Diesha’s face appeared on the screen. “V’ger I’m so glad to see you. How’s Geegornoff doing?”

V’ger’s breathing sped up as if she was in a panic. “Gee-Gee, you have to stop her.”

“V’ger, what’s wrong?”

“She said she’s gong back to Earth and making the humans confess to helping the Storytellers. I tried talking her out of it, but she somehow knew where I was hiding my gun. I keep silver bullets in it. I was so scared.”

“V’ger, don’t worry. I’ll send my personal bodyguards to retrieve Geegornoff so she doesn’t get in trouble.”

“You are?” V’ger tried concealing her disappointment.

“I’ll have my women hold her until she has time to cool off.”

“Diesha?”

“Yes?”

“You won’t tell Gee-Gee I called you.”

“That’ll be between me and you.” Diesha’s image faded from the videophone.

V’ger fumed for a few seconds before tossing the videophone against the wall shattering it.

N’Shash gazed at the spaceships lining the runway of the Aush Military Base. Though she was drummed out of the service, N’Shash convinced the guards to let her have ‘one last stroll’ through the base. N’Shash eyed one of the new heavily armed long range troop transports, Mad Slasher 81-D, which was phasing out the older 75-A models. It was armed with twice the weapons including a heavy laser cannon on the ship’s underbelly, perfect for taking on those human freaks.

Someone tapped N’Shash on the shoulder. “N’Shash, put down your gun and come with us.” The four burly bodyguards from the Tribunal had N’Shash in their gun sights.

“Diesha sent for me?” N’Shash spun the gun around her trigger finger before dropping it.

“Just come with us.”

“Have you been trained well?”

“What?”

“I want to know about your training?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Diesha’s has been like a mother to me; she deserves only the best.”

The bodyguards snarled at N’Shash. “Shut up or we’ll shut you up ourselves.”

“Looks like I’m going to have to find out for myself.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

04-12-2005, 11:19 PM

(continued from the last post)

“...I expected better security from Aush personnel.” The Supreme Tribunal bodyguard stood in the doorway of the troop transport ship with her back turned to a short, scrawny Vadda’Ra wearing a similar sash that N’Shash wore while she was a colonel.

“I’ll make sure it’ll never happen again.”

The bodyguard handed the scrawny Vadda’Ra V’ger’s pistol. “She was armed with this.” The scrawny Vadda’Ra removed the magazine case. “Careful, it’s armed with silver bullets.”

“I’ll have it destroyed immediately.”

“Good, and thank you colonel for the use of your new troop transport, I’m sure the Supreme Tribunal will forget all about this infraction after being so generous with your ships.” The bodyguard closed the door and peeling off the bodyguard uniform revealing her true identity, Geegornoff N’Shash.

“Diesha’s gotta pick better bodyguards.”

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The proximity indicator on Geegornoff’s console blinked yellow. She was coming up to her next stop: the Hub. The massive superstructure spread out for hundreds of miles as a web composed of interconnecting metal beams with thousands of disks even spaced across its surface. Each of these disks was the entrance to a wormhole leading to a distance star system in the Vadda’Ra Empire. Geegornoff adjusted her ship’s course to the wormhole to the Earth system. “Hub Control, I am under orders by the Supreme Tribunal to travel to the Earth system on a top secret mission. Prep the wormhole immediately.”

The image of Hub Control command station materialized on N’Shash communication console. The command station was dark except for the glow of computer screens illuminating the faces of the command station personnel seated behind their stations except for one Vadda’Ra dressed in a cape and sash similar to Geegornoff’s except with more medals and the rank insignia of a general. This Vadda’Ra placed her hands behind her back and addressed the fugitive soldier. “Geegornoff N’Shash, you are under arrest for the theft of a Vadda’Ra military transport and for assaulting bodyguards of the Supreme Tribunal. Decelerate your ship immediately and await our boarding party. This is your one and only warning.” The Vadda’Ra general gestured to one of her officers. “Launch patrol ships 4 and 7.” Two ships each about the size of N’Shash’s ship fired their rockets heading towards N’Shash.

“General,” said a voice through the communication console, “this is Patrol Ship 4. N’Shash is not answering our hails and has not decelerated. Permission to use force.”

“Negative lieutenant; back off from N’Shash and stay out of our line of fire.” The general turned around and said, “when she slows down to enter the wormhole, turn her ship to scrap metal.” The officer acknowledged the general’s orders.

“Target is traveling at 10,000 mph relative to station at a distance of 36 miles.”

“Rate of deceleration, cadet.”

“General, she’s not slowing down.”

“She’s going to hit the brakes at the last second; won’t do her any good.”

“Distance of target, 28 miles; 26 MILES; 24 MILES.” With each distance read, the cadet’s voice sounded more and more stressed.

The general slanted in her eyes in concern. “She can’t expect to fly through a wormhole going that fast. She could miss and slam into the Hub structure.”

“18 MILES; 16 MILES; 14 MILES; 12 MILES.”

The general slammed her fist into the button signaling a collision alert; a wailing noise blared from the loudspeakers. “BRACE FOR IMPACT!” Everyone in the room cling to their console bracing themselves for an anticipated collision. The crew cautiously lessened their grip when nothing happened. “Did N’Shash make it?”

“Yes, general; well most of her ship. I’m getting reports of some debris; not enough for a ship that size though.

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N’Shash fit her helmet over her head and fumbled around with the hoses connected to the control box on her chest. The flow of fresh air hissed as it blew on the back N’Shash’s neck. She gasped taking in her only source of air. After some catching her breath, N’Shash fired up a welding torch patching up the gash cut through the ship’s hull.

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“She flew through a wormhole with engines at full thrust.” The Shanga pilot fitted her helmet over her mop of short blue hair and prepped her equipment for the confrontation with the Vadda’Ra fugitive. The interior lights of the cockpit of her one-man fighter burned red.

Her earphones picked up the familiar voice of Mr. Smith, whom earlier on helped the Metadeliquents in their fight against N’Shash. “Actually, Dragoon 3, she was coasting...at 10,000 mph.”

“That’s like trying to park a car going a hundred. And she lived through it?”

“The Vadda’Ra’s ace pilot did a number on her ship. So, this should be an easy intercept and retrieval.”

“Intercept and retrieval?!?” protested another voice, but this one was male. “I wanted to get in some target practice.”

“Some other time, Dragoon 4. The higher-ups don’t want a war...yet.”

“Party pooper.”

It wasn’t long before the Dragoon Squadron’s target came into view. The ship’s starboard side was slit across from the near collision with the edge of the wormhole. The twisted metal beams and jagged tears glinted in the ambient glow of the burning sun.

“Radio N’Shash and order her to cut engines and open the airlocks for boarding,” said Mr. Smith.

Upon switching the frequency of his transceiver, the male Shangra winced at the static from the headphones built into his helmet. “Vadda’Ra vessel, you are in violation of Shangra territory. Prepare to be boarded.” The pilot gave N’Shash a minute to respond before tuning his transceiver again. “This is Dragoon 4. Target is not responding; permission to take target by force.”

“Permission granted; but target must be taken alive. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

Five of the fighters veered to the side coming around N’Shash. “Target’s a bit slow,” Mr. Smith warned, “but better armor and more firepower. Be careful. Dragoon 4, 7, and 9, position yourself between the target and the planet.” The three ships dipped down and slid just underneath the Vadda’Ra spaceship.

“The left swept back wing of Dragoon 7 exploded into fragments upon colliding with a blue bolt fired from N’Shash. The cockpit severed itself from the rest of the damaged fighter.

“Target shot down Dragoon 7,” yelled Dragoon 4. “Permission to return fire.”

“Negative. I want her alive.”

“Yes, sir,” Dragoon 4 mumbled.

“Dragoon 4 and 9, fire just in front of the target and herd her away from the planet.” The two fighters below carried out their orders aiming their weapons ahead of the renegade warship, which then did a semi-loop between the fighters forcing them to bank out of the way avoid colliding with the larger, heavier armored vessel.

“All vessels,” Mr. Smith screamed, “intercept the target in tight formation.” The remaining fighters swooped down in pursuit of the warship in an octagonal formation with the ninth ship in the middle. “Dragoon 3, clamp on the ship’s topside with your magnetic landing gear with your thrusting facing in the target’s direction of travel. Her guns shouldn’t be able to target you there.” The middle ship flew ahead of the formation dodging plasma bolts and flying underneath N’Shash and looping around and landing on top of her ship. Dragoon fired her thrusters heating the top of the Vadda’Ra warship till it glowed hot white. At first, the fighters’ efforts to keep N’Shash off Earth were working. The Vadda’Ra spaceship was slowing its descent through the atmosphere. But the Vadda’Ra warship gained its second wind. Its thrusters blazed even brighter than the fighter’s. Soon both ships were being torched by friction with the earth’s atmosphere, but the fighter was not handling it as well as the Vadda’Ra spaceship. Its wings sagged as it melted from the intense heat of re-entry. The pilot of Dragoon 3 had no other choice but eject or else be incinerated.

“Dragoon Squadron, pick up your pilots and return to base.” Mr. Smith burrowed his head into a console. “I didn’t think N’Shash was that crazy.”

“You said it your self, sir,” called out one of the officers from his console, “N’Shash’s ship was better armored. That’s why she could come in that steep of an angle. Our fighters would give before that gunship. I can order a search party to track her down.”

“No! There’s been enough cultural contamination already. I know what that old dog up to. We just have to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For her to make her move on them.” Mr. Smith brought up a picture of the Metadeliquents on the computer screen.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

04-12-2005, 11:20 PM

(continued from the last post)

Upon the sounding of the chimes of the school bell, kids made a mad dash to the cafeteria. Numbered with the herd were Rita Williams, Hitomi Ida, and a third girl: Abigail Darby, the school’s resident red-haired, freckle-faced, inch-thick glasses wearing nerd girl. Hitomi, ever the friendly social butterfly, befriended the otherwise reclusive Abigail.

“So, wolves and foxes have to eat bunnies?” Hitomi whined.

“If predators...to um...” Abigail stifled nervously through her technical explanation, “there weren’t...the bunnies would eat all food and starve to death. But the wolves eat them, and they can’t eat all of the food.”

Hitomi put the tips of her index fingers together. “But wouldn’t the food grow back?”

“But not fast enough.”

“But I don’t like cute animals being gobbled up.”

“You rather the other animals starve.”

“No,” Hitomi whined all the louder.

Abigail was lecturing Hitomi on the delicate balance of the ecosystem. Rita wasn’t in the mood. She had her fill of eco-awareness from Calvin and Kevin’s whacked out mom. And Hitomi’s whimpering over the cute animals didn’t help either.

“Hey Michelle, Erika, it’s Rita’s losers club.” Rita fumed with the approach of Naomi Styler and her preppy girlfriends. “And look who joined, Abby Dabby.”

Michelle snatched Abigail’s glasses and put them on her own face. “I can aliens in space with these.” Michelle cast off the glasses. The lenses crackled as Michelle grind them underneath her foot. “Oops!”

“Now poor Abby Dabby’s blind,” Erika sneered. Abigail tucked her face into her backpack and ran away crying.

“Where you think you’re going Abby Dabby?” Naomi and her snobby friends followed behind Abigail, or would have except Rita stepped between them.

“Leave her alone or else.”

“That comeback sucks. Can’t you do better or are you a retard?”

Rita balled up her fist shaking it in Naomi’s face. “I can beat your face it. How’s that?”

Hitomi drew Rita back. “Please Rita, I hate it when you fight.”

“No, let her try and then they’ll beat *Rita* up.” Naomi pointed to two burley men in black suits behind her. “Daddy hired them because I’m so rich and important people try kidnapping me. Something you wouldn’t know Psycho Rita.” Naomi arrogantly shoved Rita. “And they’re not scared of you. In fact, they’re not afraid of anyone.” And no sooner than Naomi finished her boasting the Vadda’Ra warship eclipsed the school. N’Shash, who was wearing a rocket pack on her back, leaped out the airlock in front of Naomi.

“Not you again,” Naomi said in disbelief. “N’Shash scooped up the poor rich girl in her

“Not you again,” Naomi said in disbelief. “N’Shash scooped up the poor rich girl in her hairy arms. “SAVE ME!!!” Naomi shrieked. But to Naomi’s shock, her ‘fearless’ bodyguards were fleeing for their lives. “Come back! Daddy’s paying you a lot of money!” N’Shash tossed a knife with a piece of paper attached to it into the ground, rocketed back to the ship, and sped off rattling windows across the city as the ship broke the sound barrier.

Rita tore off the note. It read:

TO GATEKEEPER: IF YOU WANT THE GIRL BACK ALIVE, COME TO THE PLACE WHERE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME BY SUNSET OR ELSE SHE DIES.

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N’Shash fidgeted in her impatience. Her hostage, bound to the wall to chains biding her hands behind her back, watched in apprehension her captor pace across the cold steel floor of the bridge. N’Shash’s pacing came to a halt when a tiny red light on the console next to Naomi blinked. The Vadda’Ra colonel gleefully bared her jagged, ivory teeth at the grey metal collar around the girl’s neck; her trump card against the Storytellers and their pet freaks. N’Shash fired up the ship’s engines and elevated the ship just above the trees. She hoisted Naomi by her collar despite her protests to being yanked around by the neck and led the girl to the airlock.

“Took’em long enough,” N’Shash said in her native tongue as the airlock door opened..

The Metadeliquents waited below the ex-colonel and her hostage. N’Shash spoke into a receiver in her left hand and a remote in the right. “See this girl.” N’Shash pointed to Naomi. “You’ll surrender or she dies.” Suddenly, Naomi was yanked from behind by Punchline and Dusk from behind a portal. Naomi couldn’t hide her relief from being rescued. She cried and attempted to embrace Rita, but the superheroine shoved her away knocking Naomi on her butt much to her surprise. It was then N’Shash tossed a collar identical to the one around Naomi’s neck. The collar exploded in midair.

“You see that human. My hostage has the same type around her neck.” N’Shash waved around the remote. “One press of the button, my hostage’s head comes off.”

Naomi madly tugged on her collar trying to take it off. “Get it off! Get it off!” Naomi panicked while the rest of the kids backed off.

N’Shash’s row of teeth gleamed in the waning light of sunset as she smirked knowing she had the Storytellers pet monster at her mercy. “And don’t try running away. I can kill her no where you take her.

“Whadda want,” Rita yelled.

“You’re coming with me...or else. You’re all out of options.” Or so N’Shash thought before a beam of light incinerated her hand along with the remote. The excruciating pain brought N’Shash to her knees yelping like an injured dog and gripping what was left of her hand. “Computer, activate automatic defenses.” The warship’s underside cannon fired at the kids, but the plasma bolt sparked harmlessly against Dusk’s shadow. Deathtone returned fire blasting the cannon and a hole through the Vadda’Ra warship. The ship jostled knocking N’Shash out the airlock and landed in the branches of a tree, and then shaken out of the tree by the ground quake wrought from the warship’s crashing into the earth only a few dozen yards away. N’Shash laid on the ground sprawled out wallowing in her failure. After going through the ordeal of fighting armed Imperial Bodyguards, hijacking a gunship, nearly colliding with the Hub, almost being captured by Shangra fighters, and tracking down her hostage, N’Shash was defeated in a matter of seconds.

“I’m soooooo sorry. It was an accident I swear. I just wanted to shoot the remote out of your hand.” N’Shash rolled over on her stomach and ignored the sniveling human’s apologies. What an insult to be defeated by such a weak-willed enemy. That whiny, spineless primitive doesn’t deserve victory. Damn the Storytellers for this travesty. N’Shash felt herself pulled into the sky. Looking up, she saw a human in red armor with wings and a horned helmet. More of the Storyteller’s freaks, thought N’Shash.

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“So, this Red Harpy woman swooped out of the clouds and flew away with N’Shash?” Mr. Smith stoically questioned Rita. He held on to the collar that was once around Naomi’s neck.

“Yeah, that was her.” Seth butted into the conversation. “And I kicked her butt all by myself.”

“And would you know why?” Mr. Smith said oblivious to Seth’s boasting.

“They’re both bad guys.”

“Seth!” Rita yelled.

“Okay. Bad girls.”

Mr. Smith gave Rita a pendant. “If you catch her again, don’t turn her in to the police. Call us and we’ll take her.”

“Sir,” Dawn tugged on Mr. Smith’s tunic, “um I didn’t mean to...you know...”

“She’ll grow a new hand in a week.”
“A werewolf can do that?” Mr. Smith gave Dawn a nod. “The elf said the werewolf lady’ll grow back her hand.”

Dusk led his brother away. “Haven’t you already figured out they’re aliens, stupid.”

“I knew that.”

“Whatever.”

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Another hair-raising adventure comes to a close. Who broke the Red Harpy out of the slammer? Why would she save N’Shash, and what is their connection (furry fans get your mind outta the gutter)? Find out in future installments of Metadeliquents. Oh yeah, Rita gets a makeover in the next issue (now everyone point and laugh at Rita).

CrossoverManiac

06-16-2005, 11:03 PM

Metadeliquents
Issue 12: The Twins vs. the Volcano: Mother Nature is really, really ticked off
Metadeliquents and all characters in this story is copyrighted by Timothy Weaver

The moon was beginning to wane as last night was the night of the full moon and the sky still retained much of the luminescence of the previous night. Two yellow beams bobbed up and down the uneven surface of a dirt road and stopped at a hill. The vehicle’s red parking lights illuminated its rusted frame and camouflaged trailer against the hill’s silhouette. Two silvery metal arms telescoped from the front of the trailer and tilted at a 30° angle. A cylindrical-shaped machine with caterpillar tracks and a drill bit at the end that glistened from the white light inside of the trailer rolled out of the back of the trailer. The drill whirled to life burrowing into the ground leaving a black cloud and a pile of soil behind. As the drill sojourned further into the strata, a tall, thin man in a red and blue ski mask in the passenger seat plotted the drill’s course on a console.

“Did the Alchemist say why he wants a volcano out here?” The driver, who donned a white ski mask was whit but was of average height and built, tapped his partner in crime on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m talking to ya.”

The man at the console waved to his partner to be patient as he adjusted the controls. Finished with his choir, the tall man addressed the driver. “All he said was to he wants that village over there buried under molten lava twelve hours from now.” The console display read ’12:00:00’ and begun counting down.

“But what the hell for? I understand someplace like Washington DC or New York, but some shanty town in the middle of South America? Is he losing it?”

“Who cares? So as he pays me those little gold bars of his, I’ll park this sucker in your mom’s backyard.”

“You’re heartless.”

“Okay then, quit and give me your half of the gold.” The driver didn’t make anymore protests. “I thought so. Now, let’s find a safe place to keep an eye on things. The Alchemists wants us to keep notes.” He then pointed to a village a quarter of a mile away. “We’re letting them have a front row seat to the fireworks.”

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Each of the dark gray mountains peaks rose above the cloud tops like islands in a sea of white foam. A dirt road, wide enough for just one car, threaded the top of the hills dipping above and below the clouds. Two dusty jeeps tread cautiously on the mountain rim. The roof of the front jeep was loaded down in sleeping bags, folded tents, and other camping supplies. The jeep’s olive skin driver dresses in a blue and white shirt and blue jeans with a straw cowboy hat. Edith Levy manned the second jeep. Calvin and Kevin sat in the back seat. Calvin shivered from the cold, damp air flowing across his bare arms. His brother, on the other hand, was quite warm in his red wind breaker.

Calvin angrily snatched on Kevin’s jacket. “Take it off!”

Kevin drew back. “Quit it!”

“Don’t make me pull over,” Edith shouted, “and give you both a time out.”

“I want that jacket,” Calvin harshly whispered to Kevin.

“But I’ll be cold,” Kevin whined.

“What about me? It’s your fault I’m freezing.”

“Me?!? Whadda I do?”

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Flashback

“Kevin!” Calvin barred down at his twin brother who was sitting on his beanbag and playing a videogame. “Earth to Kevin, come in.” Kevin didn’t hear his brother. Instead, he played on entranced by the game. Calvin then waved his hand in front of the TV.

“Quit it! You’re messing me up,” cried Kevin.

“We gotta pack up; the trip, remember.” Calvin turned the videogame console off.

“No fair! Just let me play a little bit more.”

“Pack now. Play later.”

“But Calvin!”

“No!”

“Please?”

“I said ‘NO’”.

“Please???”

“ALRIGHT! PLAY YOUR STUPID GAME! But pack our clothes while I get Edith’s when you’re done.”

End of Flashback

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“You never packed our clothes and I had to do it for you. And that kept me from finding my jacket.”

“I’m sorry Calvin.” Kevin pulled off his jacket, which Calvin snatched it out of his hand. Kevin shivered as his skin felt the cold air. “Ain’t Peru near the equator? I thought it was hot at the equator.” Kevin curled up in his seat to keep warm.

“Not in the mountains.”

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Back in the old U.S. of A.

School was coming to a close, and all the kids lined up to board the old yellow bus with peeling paint and to go back home. “A sleepover?” Since she became the Gatekeeper, Rita was busy keeping the world safe, and apart from school and sleep, didn’t do much else. Not that she was that popular to begin with.

“You’re not that busy, Rita,” Hitomi whined. Since she moved into the neighborhood, Hitomi’s been bugging Rita to spend the night. “Abigail said she’d stay over. Why won’t you?”

“I got to study.”

“For what?” Hitomi moaned. “We don’t have tests this week or next. What are you studying anyway.”

“It’s,” Rita paused to think. But then it occurred to her things have quieted down in the superhero business. Lately, the bad guys were behaving themselves. “Now I think about, you’re right. I’ll ask TJ can I come over.”

“He said you could.” Rita looked dumbfounded. “I ask my sister Megami and she asked TJ and TJ said yes.”

“Gee thanks.” Rita gritted her teeth. Hitomi was nice, but she could be a bit of a pest at times.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-16-2005, 11:05 PM

(continued from the last post)

Calvin was dressed in a long-sleeve black T-shirt of his favorite band, Midnight Sorrow. He sat under the only tree within walking distance from the village writing in a black pocket-sized book with a gold trim on the edges he had in his lap as the local children played soccer in a dusty field with no grass, from all of the kids running back and forth trampling whatever growing there, kicking the ball between makeshift goals made from two poles sticking out of the ground. Calvin ran his pen just above each line scrutinizing his work. He frowned at a line and was about to scratched over it when someone jumped on his back. Calvin’s pencil dug into his book tearing the page in two.

“Hi Calvin,” said Kevin just behind Calvin’s ear.

Calvin shoved his brother off his back. Kevin was dirty from playing with the other kids, especially his shoes. Those were completely covered in dust making it impossible to tell the color and name brand of the shoes. “LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!” Calvin waved the ruin book in Kevin’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin frowned, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

Calvin threw the book to the ground. “I ought of smack you upside the head for that!” Calvin then noticed he and Kevin wasn’t alone. Some of the kids from the soccer field gathered around gawking at the two brother fight. They too were dusty from the soccer match.

“¿Quién lo tiene?” (Who’s he?) One of the boys asked in Spanish.

“Ése es Calvin, mi hermano gemelo.” (That’s Calvin, my twin brother.)

“Pero su pelo es negro,” (But his hair is black.) said a girl pointing to Calvin’s jet black hair.

“Él lo tine.” (He dyes it.) The other kids laughed.

“Whadda say? You better tell me,” said Calvin defensively. He was regretting not learning Spanish like his brother.

“I said we were brothers, and they didn’t believe me. Hey, you want to play soccer. We need one more person.”

“You mean me?” Calvin pointed to himself. “I never played before.” Calvin didn’t make friends as easily as his carefree brother. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be bad after all.

A boy, about seven years old, handed Kevin Calvin’s book. “¿Podría usted leerlo a nosotros?” (Could you read it to us?)

“Seguro.” (Sure.) Kevin opened the book to the page Calvin ripped.

“Give it back, duffus!” Calvin tried prying the book out of Kevin’s head, but Kevin kept his back between Calvin and the book and began reading the poem in Spanish.

“Llevo a cabo mi mano en la obscuridad del sepulcro.” (I hold my hand in the dark of the grave.)
“Los dedos se cruzaron para un encuentro chance.” (Fingers crossed for a chance encounter.)
“Pero ninguna relevación de mi santifica la cueva.” (But no relief from my hallow cave.)
“Para mi vida, mi amor, y mis odios no importan.” (For my life, my love, and my hates do not matter.)

The other children pointed and laughed at Calvin.

“Él es extraño,” (He’s weird) said the girl with pigtails.

“Y su poema es espeluznante,” (And his poem is creepy) said the seven year old.

“Consigamos lejos de ése al americano extraño.” (Let’s get away from that weird American.) The kids abandoned the twins to resume their soccer game.

Calvin shoved Kevin to the ground. “You did it again, stupid.”

“But I was just reading your poem.”

Calvin put his poetry book in his pocket. “Now, they think I’m a weirdo.”

“But why? Your poem was pretty.”

Calvin rapped the book across his brother’s temple.

“Don’t make me call a timeout on you.” Edith led the two feuding brothers away by the arm. “Gosh, can’t you two act your age. Now do something constructive and positive with your anger and get on your supersuits.”

Calvin tensed up. “What’s wrong! Supervillains? Aliens?”

Edith kneeled down at looked Calvin in the eyes. “The worst of them all: corporate America.”

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An angry mob of mostly young adults in their twenties waving signs and pickets with the peace sign banner and slogans denouncing the evils of the corporate greed blockaded the caravan of bulldozers, concrete mixers, cranes, and 18-wheelers. The protesters chanted loudly over the idled diesel engines that belched their oily-smelling exhaust in the air. Edith was in the middle of the protesters yelling the loudest with her ever present microphone.

A white jeep drove pass the traffic jam and parked in front of Edith. A plump elderly man with a bad toupee and expensive dark blue suit and red tie squeezed between the front seat and back seat of the two-door jeep.

“You again,” the suit yelled.

“Miss me?” Edith mocked.

“Look, you don’t out of the way, we’re going through you. So, don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“Dawn, Dusk,” Edith beckoned to the twins over her shoulder. Calvin and Kevin stood side-by-side with Edith. Dawn tried to look menacing but looked like a kindergartener doing an expression of a ‘scary’ monster. Dusk actually looked menacing, though Edith did more to inspire Calvin’s look than the suit’s empty threat. “And if you do, these two aren’t going to like it. Don’t say *you* haven’t been warned.”

“I wish he would run you and Kevin over,” thought Calvin.

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Calvin, still in his Dusk costume brooded underneath the same tree from earlier before. The news crew that came to interview his mother and Kevin drove by. The angry Levy twin kicked a rock that skipped across the hard ground and skimmed next between Edith and Kevin.

“Where you’ve been?” Edith asked with hands folded. “We had to do the interview without you, not to mention the photo ops.”

Calvin looked away in disgust. “I’m tired of you using me.”

“What?”

“I wanted to stay at home but you made me come for your stupid ‘Save the Planet’ club.”

Edith rolled her eyes. “What a baby! I can’t take you anywhere without hearing you whine. Why can’t you be more like Kevin?” Edith patted Kevin on the head making Kevin grin sheepishly.

“That’s because Kevin goofs around and makes me do all of the work.”

“Not all the time,” said Kevin defensively.

“No, just 99%. And you, Edith! You love that stupid eco-crap more than us.”

“That’s not true. You and Kevin are my first priority.”

Calvin rolled his eyes. “Sure you do, *Edith*.”

“If I’m lying, may the ground swallow me up.”

The earth apparently heard Edith Levy’s boast. The stony ground cracked between Edith’s feet and parted the earth. Unable to hold herself steady on the restless ground, Edith lost her balance causing her foot to slip into the gorge had it not been for her sons snatching her away from the earth’s gaping mouth. The Levy family sped away in their jeep as dark grey rubble trusted upward; the bulging ground exhaled clouds of steam and soot. With each growth spurt, tons of rubble tumbled down the ever growing mound. Just when the base was large enough to cover a footfall field, the black mound blew its top. The shattered remains bore through the ground as the pieces came crashing down.

“Oh my gosh!” Kevin screamed over the thunderous birth of the newborn volcano. “The village; all those people.”

The village was being pounded by volcano ejecta that have already flattened a house. Llamas, chickens, goats, and other farm animals stampeded in all directions while their owners scuttled to catch their spooked livestock. Bawling infants gripped their mothers.

Dusk hopped out of the jeep and extended his shadow over the village forming a dome-shaped roof over their heads.

Kevin climbed on the hood of the jeep with Edith’s microphone and yelled out in Spanish, “La piel debajo de la sombra y de usted de la oscuridad será segura.” (Hide under Dusk's shadow, and you'll be safe.) Kevin jumped off the hood and calmed the hysterical crowd keeping them from leaving the safety of Dusk’s shadow.

The volcano erupted again as it hit another growth spurt. The resulting explosion shattered every window in the town, even the jeeps’ windshields. People rolled up in the fetal position trying to avoid the shattered glass. Overhead, car-sized globs of lava spewed from out of the volcano that hammered on Dusk’s shadow. The collision echoed through the canopy like drumbeats. The people cuddled up for comfort and for warmth for Dusk’s shadow soaked up the ambient heat from the air. Puffs of ice crystals came with each breath exhaled from the villagers.

“Can’t you get Rita to get these people out of here,” a shivering Edith asked her sons.

Calvin shook his head. “Rita’s never been to Peru before. It’ll take her awhile to get here, and I don’t think we’ll last that long.” Calvin pointed to the edge of his shadow. The edge was slowly receding. “It’s all that volcanic rock. My shadow can’t absorb much more heat from it. Tell Kevin to shoot down those boulders so he can at least bleed off the excess energy my shadow absorbed. Edith wasted no time and led Kevin to the edge of the shadow to get some of the pressure off his brother. As Kevin was blasting away with his laser powers, Calvin wondered what Rita doing at that moment.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-16-2005, 11:07 PM

(continued from the last post)

Hitomi’s house

Hitomi Ida’s bedroom was a poor man’s version of Naomi Styler’s. Though smaller in size, about 20 foot by 15 foot, it still expressed the same theme of saccharine cuteness only more so. A light pink spread embroidered by white frills on the edges covered Hitomi’s twin-sized bed. Lying on the bed were various stuff animals: Siamese kitten, a speckled cat, an orange tabby with stripes, penguin, a brown bear, and matching red and pink pair of bears, a bright yellow baby chick, a dolphin, a large white Siberian tiger, and puppy dog. Red and pink heart-shaped throw pillows lined the head of the bed. The surface of Hitomi’s computer could no longer be seen from the cute animal, rainbow, and fairy stickers on it. Nor could the walls of the room be seen from the posters of Japanese pop and rock bands and idol singers. Hitomi’s desk had their own stuffed animals, only smaller than the ones on the bed. A small basket on the far right of the desk held multi-colored pens and pencils with star and moon erasers on the end. On the other side of the room, Hitomi had a white dresser with mirror on top with a jewelry box and make-up kit on top.

Hitomi opened the make-up kit filing through the pile of eye-liner, blush, lipstick, nail polish. “Big sister let me have her old make up kit,” Hitomi said to Abigail and Rita who was crowded together on a beam bag on the floor. “Her old boyfriend gave her a new one last Christmas.”

Rita stared at the assortment of make-up. She pictured herself with pink lipstick and violet nail polish and a little blush. TJ wouldn’t allow her to wear make-up; too young he’d say. Of course, he’d never know if she did use Hitomi’s make-up. She and Abigail would never tell. “That’s great...um...I guess.” Rita said unable to contain her excitement.

“You don’t sound excited,” said Abigail examining the contents of the make-up box. “I think it’s cool.”

Rita was about to put some pink lipstick on when Hitomi grabbed her hand. “Nuh uh. Me and Abigail’s doing that for you. We’re doing makeovers, remember.

“You don’t have to,” Rita said with a smile trying to hide her terror.

“But it’s a sleepover tradition.”

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Another boulder fell victim to Dawn’s lasers. It violently fragmented into pebbles and red and white sparks in midair. The shadow canopy expanded back to its original size now that Kevin was using up the excess energy. So far, Kevin managed to hit half of the ejecta coming towards them. But now, as the onslaught of volcano ejecta slacks off, Dawn heard a low rumble noise along the ground slowly creeping up on them. A tidal wave of molten rock flowed outward from the volcano. “Calvin, put down your shadow,” Kevin said in distress to his brother.

“If I do, everyone’ll freeze to death. And it’s Dusk, remember stupid.” Kevin pointed to the flowing lava. “So, that’s my job too, huh? You’re still making me to do all the work.”

“I am not!”

“Then why don’t you do something useful, like, I don’t know, dig a trench to lead the lava away from us.”

Kevin positioned himself at the edge of the shadow canopy and shot laser beams into the ground. The laser blasted away dirt excavating a knee-high, six foot wide trench leading to a low line area just on the edge of the village. The wave of lava dropped into the trench, but instead of stopping it, overflowed and continued coming. Dawn hastily carved another trench into the ground. The second didn’t stop it but the lava flow wasn’t as high as it was before. Dawn fired at the ground again, but his lasers were losing power.

“Dusk!” Kevin screamed at his brother. “The trench isn’t working, and I’m running out of power.”

“Useless!” Calvin grumbled under his brother. Dusk scrutinize the lava flow and its distance from the village. The lava was only a few feet away before it entered the canopy. Dawn lowered his shadow completely submerging the village in darkness. Outside the shadow dome, the lava solidified and hardened. “Dawn, I’m going to raise my shadow up. Finish the trench. You should have energy now.”

Dawn fired his lasers gorged another trench out of the ground at the base of the dam of igneous rock that formed when Dusk’s shadow siphoned heat from the lava flow. The lava flow managed to spill over the cooled igneous rock but what little did was diverted away from the town. A few minutes later, the volcano became calm; the rumbling died down. Dusk retracted his shadow just as the sun was setting. The townspeople cheered exuberantly as they were bathed in the brilliant red and yellow evening sky.

Dawn tugged on Edith’s shirt. “Do you see us? Huh huh? We save the town. I’m glad you got to see us.” Dawn jumped up and down while holding on to Edith’s shirt sleeve.

Edith gripped Dawn’s shoulder. “Calm down before you rip my clothes,” Edith laughed. “You and Dusk did great. Lucky you two were here to save everyone.”

“Yeah,” Dusk said despondently. “Lucky us. Don’t you think it was strange that a volcano popped up right where we are? Dawn, are you listening you duffus?” Dawn was on his hands and knees with his ear against the ground.

“I hear something, and it’s getting louder.” Calvin and Edith could hear it too. The rumbling underneath was getting louder than the jubilant townspeople who stopped all celebration. The rumbling intensified and was now rattling the village. The townspeople panicked again running away from the epicenter of the new earthquake. The drilling machine has surfaced in the middle of the town square.

A mechanical arm with long tube on the end extended from the drill’s body. Dusk put up his shadow just as a missile fired out the tube. The collision between the missile and Dusk’s shadow ignited a fireball. “Don’t worry,” Dawn cried out, “I’ll get it.” Dawn fired his lasers at it, but the drill’s surface suddenly became reflective. The laser beams bounced off; one of them torched a house.

Dusk’s shadow formed into a spiked ball and was about to slam into it when a laser turret fired on Dusk’s shadow disintegrating it. Dusk’s shadow encircled the drill machine trying to find an opening but the lasers fired on the stem of the shadow causing the ring to dissipate. Dusk’s shadow reached back and tossed a boulder at the machine but the boulder crumbled when it impacted the machine’s armored plates. Dusk’s shadow then tossed the jeep at it. The jeep folded like a crushed aluminum can from the impact, but this time, Dusk managed to knock a small hole in the armor.

Dusk pointed to the dent in the machine’s armor. “Dawn, shoot it there!” The machine’s surface became reflective again, but this time it did so in vain. Dawn’s laser hit the machine’s unprotected spot. A blue flame spat out from the hole, and then the machine partially exploded. Although it wasn’t blown off, the armor plating became disjointed and dangled in place when it was unhinged from its bolts.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-16-2005, 11:07 PM

(continued from the last post)

The two men sit inside the truck staring nervously at the laptop. They failed at their mission to destroy the town. Worse, the Alchemist’s volcano machine was wrecked in the process, and from what the two has heard, it was a custom job specially designed with two of the Metadeliquents in mind. It was little wonder they were so hesitant to contact their boss and report on their mistake.

The thug manning the console took a deep breath and said, “I’ll call him.” He typed some commands into the laptop. The image of the Alchemist appeared on the screen.

“So how are things coming along?” He asked in a calm, almost regal voice.

“Um...sir. We weren’t able to destroy the town.”

“Yes, I know.” The Alchemist didn’t appear too concerned.

“And your machine got wrecked,” said the driver.

“But did you record everything that happened?”

“Oh yeah. We videotaped the whole thing.”

“And we used that scanner thing too.” The driver waved around a black control in front of the laptop.”

“Excellent. Upload the video footage and scanner readouts to my computer, immediately.” The two thugs were awestruck at the Alchemist’s behavior. “I SAID I WANT IT NOW!” The Alchemist yelled at the two men for not moving fast enough. “Excuse me for losing patience,” the Alchemist apologized. “And when you’re done, report back to base. I have a few more assignments for you.”

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The Levy family just made it back from their trip from Peru. The twins and Edith were unloading their luggage when Calvin saw the answering machine light blinking. Calvin played back the message Rita recorded for them to call her at a strange number they never seen before.

“Hello,” said the voice of a girl they never heard before.

“Is Rita Williams there?”

“Sure, I’ll get her.” The twins waited for Rita to pick up the phone, but instead, the person on the other end hung on them. Calvin didn’t know why he was disconnected until a portal opened in their living room. They couldn’t believe their eyes at who stepped through.

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Calvin and Kevin sat at the dining room table opposite of Rita gawking eyes, wide open at her as they told their story. The two explained what happened on their trip to Peru; about how they were nearly buried alive by a volcano and the fight with the drill machine.

“Ms. Levy,” Rita sighed, “this is her fault.”

“You’re blaming our mom for this?” Calvin and Kevin said in unison.

“Why not? The guy that made that machine knew your weaknesses. And he knew where you were. And your mom blabs to everything that she knows us. They knew you were coming because of her.” The twins squint at Rita. “Don’t look at me like that. I know she didn’t do on purpose, but for now on, we can’t help her save the striped owl or whatever you call it.” The twins wouldn’t stop squinting at her. “I said she didn’t mean to do it, so quit it.”

“Ri...Ri...Rita,” Calvin stumbled, “why do you look like Punchline’s girlfriend?” Sure enough, Rita’s face had an overabundance of make up. Pink lipstick encircled her whole mouth. Too much eyeliner made her lashes look like black fins along her eyelids. The blue eye shadow made Rita look like she was in a fight with Mike Tyson. The red blush looked like solid red dots on her cheek.

“Abi and Hitomi gave me a makeover.”

“Why don’t you wash it off?”

Rita slumped over. “They won’t let me.”

“And who’s Abi and Hitomi?” Calvin looked crossed at Rita. “What were you doing while that volcano was trying to kill us?”

“Oh look at the time. They’re probably wondering why I’m still in the bathroom. See ya.” Rita didn’t wait till the portal opened fully before jumping through.

“Rita, come back here!”

But unknown to Rita, a pair of translucent, cat-like eyes inside the towel closet witnessed Rita teleporting from Hitomi’s bathroom to the Levy’s house and back. As Rita opened the bathroom door, it ran underneath her feet undetected and into Hitomi’s room. The creature was a raccoon. It was a little smaller than average; about the size of a house cat. The striped animal squeezed through Hitomi’s door and climbed onto the bed next to Hitomi.

“Tanuki,” Hitomi said to the little critter, “what have you been up to?” The raccoon stood up on its hind legs and pawed at Hitomi’s face. The Japanese girl put her ear next to the raccoon’s muzzle. “Oh my, you’re kidding?” Hitomi said in shock.

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Another adventure comes to a close. Calvin and Kevin saved the day with their amazing powers. Rita got her make-over, much to her dismay. But who will save them from the evil schemes the Alchemist is cooking up for our young adventurers? This question will not be answered in the next issue. Instead, the author will shamelessly cash in on the anime craze that’s hitting the nation and parody it. What anime character or genre gets lambasted? Find out on the next issue of Metadeliquents. Oh yeah! We’re also introducing a new threat and maybe give you hints on what the Alchemist is up to.

CrossoverManiac

09-13-2005, 09:00 PM

If I screwing up this story somehow, tell me. I could use some constructive critism.

CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 08:56 PM

Metadeliquents:
Issue 13: Cross-Genre Madness: The Superheroes, The Zombie, and the Magical Girl
Metadeliquents is the property of Timothy Weaver.

Beams of lights showered through the glass windows of the bank ending in a pattern of dots that resembled constellations in the sky. One of the beams of light highlighted a short-haired blonde woman in a blue blouse and skirt leaning against the front of the counter as she knelt down with her hands on her head along with three other tellers. One of was about a black lady in her fifties, heavy built with grey hair wearing a white blouse and a light brown dress. The other two tellers were men, both bald and wearing glasses, white button-up shirt and tie. One of the men was mumbling a mantra of doom under his breath repeating the words, “We’re going to die.” A man in a baseball cap, shades, and full beard hovered over them pointing a revolver at them. The robber paced around the room and took deep breaths. The pistol convulsed in his trembling gloved hands as his fingers rubbed up against the trigger guard. The robber yanked the man that was mumbling off the floor. The robber’s hand trembled more violently than before.

“SHUT UP!!! JUST SHUT UP!!!”

“Roy, please calm down,” said a voice outside the bank. Behind police barricades, patrol cars, and armed police men stood Officer Alan Hannity. The gruff middle-aged cop was playing negotiator in an attempt to get the frantic robber to release his hostages. “Why you’ve pushing the suit around, Roy?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m your best friend, cop!” Roy screamed as he pressed his pistol against the teller’s chin. “You call me by my last name.”

“Alright, Mr. Willheim, I won’t chum up to you. Now let’s talk about freeing those hostages.”

“So you can catch me and put me in jail. Kiss my ass.”

“At least let the women go as a down payment for your freedom.”

Willheim shook his head energetically. “None of them leaves until I do, and I want the following: a getaway car, $2 million, and a plane to the Bahamas.”

As the robber was talking, a vaguely humanoid figure leaped from the rooftop of the adjacent building and crept into the bank.

The robber turned to the door waving his gun at the intruder. “Who’s there? I’ll kill him if you don’t show yourself.” The hostage, still in the robber’s grip, flinched as the pistol pressed deeper into his chin.

“The money you’re taking, for your own selfish desires, was made by the hard-work and sweat of others to feed and clothed their families. I will not forgive you for the tears and heartache you caused.” The spotlights shifted away from the robber to the intruder at the door. But it wasn’t any of the Metadeliquents. It was a young Asian girl, about 11 years old. On the ground next to her was a small raccoon. Her dark blue hair was done up in a pair of pig tails reaching down to her elbows that were decorated with white ribbons. A pink heart with frills around the edges donned her light-blue blouse with light-blue shoulder pads that end in frills and gold buttons. Her hot pink skirt also donned white frills on the end. “I, Heart Protector Tome, will protect the people’s hopes and dreams.” Whether or not Heart Protector Tome could live up to her boast would remain to be seen. For, while she was making her impassioned speech, a ring of light sparking with electricity mushroomed underneath each of the hostages until they were swallowed up. But before Roy Willheim had a chance to respond, Punchline charged through the fifth portal behind him and collided head on with his clown hammer as a brace between himself and the robber. Willheim was off his feet upon impact and landed face first or, to be more specific, his nose. His nose was beet red with blood streaming from his nostrils, and he felt sick from some of the blood from the nosebleed going down into his throat. He tried getting up, but Punchline was on his back and with his clown hammer underneath his chin.

“You really showed him,” Seth mocked the superheroine wannabe while Gatekeeper helped Punchline tie up the robber. “’I protect their hopes and dreams’?!? What a load of crap!”

“But...but...but...” Heart Protector Tome mumbled.

“You could have gotten killed,” Gatekeeper scolded Tome. “Whoever you are, leave the superheroing to us.”

“Yeah, leave the superheroing to real superheroes, stupid,” said Deathtone.

Heart Protector Tome balled up her fist and cried till her cheeks were red, “You’re mean, and I hate you.” And she and her pet raccoon ran pass Officer Hannity, who just entered the doorway, and away from the bank crying and then disappeared in an alley.

The detective gripped Rita’s wrist in one hand and passed an envelope to her in the other. “Make it look like a struggle,” Hannity whispered. Rita didn’t get understand what Hannity was talking about until he tugged on Rita’s arm. “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

“Back off cop!” Rita yelled at Hannity. She teleported her, Seth, and Punchline out of the bank.

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“Please tell me she’s not on the list,” Seth said slumped over Rita’s dinner table.

“Who,” Rita asked.

“That weirdo! What’s her name? Heart Attack Tony.”

“Heart Protector Tome.” Punchline propped his big black clown shoes on the table next to Rita.

“She isn’t.”

“I don’t care what that stupid list says...She isn’t?”

“No. There’s only one left, and we have to wait for him to show up. But that girl last night was just the tip of the iceberg. I heard on the news, there were a bunch of people in the hospital from drinking chemical waste and radioactive stuff.”

“You mean people are stupid enough to do that?”

Rita nodded at Seth’s question. “And that reporter Mary Nodell is blaming it on us.” Rita took out of her pocket the envelope that Officer Hannity gave her. It was a little crinkly from being in Rita’s pocket, but otherwise okay. “But that’s not why we’re meeting today.” Rita took out the black and white photos of a mid-size car with its front collapse in and underneath a bent up light pole and note inside the envelope. She read the note while Punchline and Seth passed back the photos to each other.

“Her name is Joanne Fields. Four days ago, her husband died in a car wreck.”

“A car wreck?!?” said Seth who didn’t want to waste his time over an auto accident.

“He ran into a lamp post.”

“So what?”

“So, Hannity thinks this was a murder, but the police won’t investigate.”

“Because it was an accident, that’s why. Stupid guy in car hits lamp post and dies: the end.”

“Punchline,” said a frustrated Rita, “don’t you see something suspicious?” Punchline scrutinized the photos with a magnifying glass. “Well, you see anything?”

“My gloves are dirty.”

“I mean the pictures!”

Punchline looked over the photos again. He examined the collapsed front end of the car. “Looks like a wreck to me.”

“Well, Hannity wouldn’t give us this stuff if it was just a stupid accident.” Rita pulled out her cloak out of her gym bag. “Suit up. We’re going to Mrs. Fields’ house.”

“And what about Kevin and Calvin,” asked Seth.

“They can’t come.”

“What!” Seth yelled.

“Edith’s mad at me.”

“What for Rita?” Punchline asked.

“I told Edith not to blab to everyone in the world she knows us, or else the bad guys might try to kill us like they did in Peru with that volcano machine.” Rita slumped over. “But she won’t listen and she made Calvin and Kevin not help us anymore.”

“I wish my mom wouldn’t let me be a Metadeliquent,” said Seth. “Maybe I should tell her.”

“You do, and I’ll tell her you stole stuff with your powers. Then I’ll tell the police, and they’ll lock you up.”

Seth pouted, turned his head away from Rita, and fumed. “I hate you,” Seth said under his breath.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 08:57 PM

(continued from the last post)

Joanne Fields never imagined a celebrity would ever darken her steps, much less three celebrities. Through the peephole in her door, Joanne could recognize the children as the ones on the news. “Aren’t you Metadeliquents?”

“Yes ma’am,” said Gatekeeper. “Can we come in Mrs. Fields? This is about your husband.”

“Oh God, Norman,” Rita could tell she was still grieving over the death of her spouse.

“A policeman said he was murdered. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Could you let us in, ma’am?”

“Call me Joanne. I feel old when you call me ‘ma’am’.” Seth was taken off guard by the goddess that greeted them at the door. Her green eyes highlighted her short red hair that hung down in bangs that brushed against her smooth radiant cheeks and luscious red lips. The blue sweater Joanne wore did nothing to hide her ample bosoms and hour-glass shape. Rita and Punchline waited at the door for Deathtone to go in, but all Seth could do was stare at Joanne with mouth opened and drooling. Seeing that Seth wasn’t going to move, Rita shoved her way through the door and grasped Seth by the wrist leading him in. Joanne led the three superheroes to her living room. Gatekeeper and Punchline took a seat on opposite ends of the couch while Seth stayed close behind Joanne.

“Would you like anything to drink? I have soda in the frig,” Joanne politely offered her guests.

“I’ll get it for you *Joanne*. Whadda you want to drink? If you don’t like soda, I can fix you some coffee,” said Deathtone enthusiastically.

Gatekeeper put her foot out stopping Deathtone from running off. “No thank you.”

“So, what do you want?” Joanne asked as she paced around the room and nervously wringed her hands.

“Could you tell us how your husband died?”

Joanne turned her head away from Gatekeeper. “He was murdered by D.K.”

“D.K.?”

“Dennis Kubrick; he was mine and Norman’s friend.” Joanne gazed at a picture of her posing between two other men, one with brown hair thinning out prematurely wearing a green and white striped pullover shirt. Rita recognized the man as the man whose bloodied and twisted body was in the wretched car. The other man who was on the other side of Joanne had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and a freckled face that made him look much younger than Joanne’s balding husband.
“At least we used to be friends. I met D.K. and Norman in college. We started off as study buddies for calculus, but we ended up being closer. And I never met and a nicer man than Dennis.”

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Flashback

Joanne looked out the rain-covered window of her car. The interior was ragged looking: the gray cloth seats have holes and dark brown stains, the radio was ripped out, the dashboard was jagged from chunks being knocked out of them, and a crack ran across the front windshield. Joanne’s raggedy old car broke down in the middle of the interstate leaving her stranded and alone. The distraught woman glanced back at the book bag in the passenger seat. She had a test in an hour that she won’t be able to get to in time. Joanne leaned her head against the steering wheel and started crying when a set of headlights shined through Joanne’s rear window.

“Need a lift?” Dennis stood just outside the car peering inside. Upon his freckled face was a familiar smile that Joanne was all too happy to see. His dirty blonde hair was soaked in rain water.

“Oh D.K.,” said Joanne drying her eyes, “you shouldn’t have. What about your job?”

D.K. looked away from Joanne. “Oh that? Tired of working there anyway.” D.K. took Joanne by the hand. “Don’t you have a test to take?” Joanne smiled back and grabbed her book bag.

End of Flashback
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Joanne nodded her head down and wiped her eyes. “And he was the most honest man I’ve ever met.”

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Flashback

Each drop of rain water being blown in the wind felt like cold pebbles beating against the faces of the shoppers walking between stores along the shopping plaza sidewalk. Norman and D.K. agreed to accompany Joanne for some last minute Christmas shopping for some inexpensive gifts for her family. Joanne’s umbrella has long ago turned inside out by the last gust of wind. All three of them were cold and wet. Norman was shivering with his hands folded against his chest. As the trio was about to walk into the next store, a woman ran by and just manages to nudge Joanne on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” said the woman running by.

Joanne and Norman was about to go into the store when D.K. stopped in front of the store and stooped down. On the ground was a wallet. D.K. opened it. There was a driver’s license with the woman’s picture on it, and several one-hundred dollar bills stuffed into the folds of the wallet.

“That must have felt out of her purse,” Joanne stated.

D.K. held the one-hundred dollar bills between his thumb and index fingers and then glanced around him. He stared at a police car parked several parking rows away from them. D.K. immediately stood upright, tucked the wallet under his arms and ran in the direction of the woman. As he ran, he cupped his hands over his eyes to shield it from being pelted by the rain. About three stores down, the woman rushed out of a store. She seemed hysterical.

“I believe this is yours, ma’am.”

“Oh bless you young man. That wallet had my last week’s pay in it. I wouldn’t know what to do without it. Thank you.”

D.K. waved his hand in front of the woman. “No need to thank me. Just doing the right thing, ma’am.”

End of Flashback
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CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 08:58 PM

(continued from the last post)

“D.K. was a good man, but me and Norman was in love. He didn’t seem angry about it at first. But then he changed.” Joanne’s voice was becoming more stressed.

“Didn’t you go to the police?”

Joanne threw up her hands in frustration. “Of course I did, but they didn’t believe me.”

Gatekeeper reminisced about the Tamer case where the police wouldn’t bring in the suspect because of a lack of evidence. Then again, their suspect was proven to be innocent. “What makes you think he did?”

“He told me,” Joanne wiped the tears off her face cherry-red cheeks. “D.K. said Norman wasn’t good enough for me and that he shouldn’t have stolen me away from him.”

That’s odds, thought Rita. The man admitted to killing Joanne’s husband. But why wasn’t he arrested. “Where’s Dennis Kubrick now?”

“The Eternal Rest Cemetery five blocks down the street from my house.”

“That’s his hideout.”

“No, that’s where he’s buried.”

“When did he die?”

“Two weeks ago. He had cancer.”

“Don’t you mean two *days* ago?”

“No, two weeks ago.”

“But that’s before your husband died.”

“That’s right.”

“You mean Dennis faked his own death and killed your husband.”

“No, D.K. really did die.”

“Then how did he kill him?”

“D.K. came back from the dead.”

The room went completely silent while Rita processed Joanne’s words. “Let’s go.” Gatekeeper gestured to the rest to follow her out the door.

“But it’s true! I saw him with my own eyes!” Joanne started back crying. “It’s all fault! D.K.’s mad that I married Norman instead of him, and now his soul can’t rest.”

“Yeah,” Deathtone pleaded while patting Joanne on the back trying to calm her down. “She saw it. We got to save her from that zombie.”

“More like save her from your hormones,” Gatekeeper said under her breath.

“You have to believe me. I wouldn’t lie about my dead husband.”

As Gatekeeper and Deathtone were arguing back and forth, Punchline were looking over the photo of the automobile accident, again and concentrated on the lamp post and collapsed body and frame. “The car was thrown.”

“What?” said a surprised Gatekeeper and Deathtone in unison.

“The light pole is bent downward as if the car came at this angle,” said Punchline holding out the picture and pointing it downward at a high angle. “And look at the way the car is dented. That could only happen if it was crashing down on the pole.”

“You see, the zombie threw it.” Seth glanced back at Joanne.

“You believe me?” Joanne looked relieved.

“Sure,” Seth grinned.

“Well, I guess D.K. is a zombie,” said Rita.

“So, that means we got to stay here and protect Joanne.”

“No, Punchline’s staying.”

“But I got the superpowers.”

Rita yanked Seth by the arm and whispered in his ears, “And parents too. Remember?”

“I’ll be okay,” said Joanne.

“But don’t you want us to protect you?”

“Oh I’ll be fine. That first Metadeliquent will protect me.”

“What first Metadeliquent?”

“The one that came before you. Tome.”

“Tome?!?” Gatekeeper didn’t like the sound of this. The only Tome she knew nearly got people killed while trying to play superhero. Sure enough, her fears were answered when the same girl from the bank came through the door with the five sodas. Under her feet was her little raccoon.

“Hi Gatekeeper,” Tome waved at Rita with one hand and gave Joanne the cans of soda with the other.

“How did you get here?” Rita screamed.

“Um...I followed you?”

“How? We teleported.”

“But why not?” Tome whined.

“Because teleportation folds space-time using a Kerr-Newman wormhole and bypassing travel through normal four-dimensional space-time making it impossible to follow,” said Punchline.

“Heart Protector Tome can sense the sadness radiating from their troubled souls and come to save their hopes and dreams.” Tome did the same pose as she did at the bank.

“Boy, I thought I was a loony,” Punchline chuckled.

“So, you’re not a Metadeliquent?” A bewildered Joanne asked.

“No, she’s just a fake,” said Rita who was shoving Heart Protector Tome out the door. “Call me if you get into trouble and I’ll teleport Mr. Whiskers for you.” Punchline gave Rita a thumbs-up. Rita opened a wormhole and was about to walk through before noticing Seth wasn’t coming. Rita then snatched Seth by the arm. “Come on, Deathtone.”

“Why does Punchline get to stay,” Seth grumbled before disappearing.

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Under the hazy glow of streetlamps, a hump rose underneath the moist, green lawn and was moving through the city. It darted around startled bystanders who ran in panic at this bizarre sight as it moved along the sidewalk. The individual concrete slaps that compose the sidewalk made a cracking noise as the hump uprooted it from the ground. The hump ran along side a car and managed to keep up with it before stopping in front of a brick house enclosed in a chain-linked fence.

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CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 08:59 PM

(continued from the last post)

Joanne Fields stood by the refrigerator door while Punchline was bent over rummaging through Joanne’s groceries. “Um...aren’t you supposed to be watching out for Dennis?”

Punchline stood upright with a handful of luncheon meat, a loaf of bread, a jar of mayo, and a bottle of ketchup and mustard. “Sure I am. If Dennis comes in the kitchen, I’ll see him.” Punchline laid out his meal on the kitchen counter and began making himself a sandwich.

“But I was hoping you’d stop him before he got that close.”

Punchline pulled a tiny TV set out of his pocket. As he punched a button, sections of Joanne’s yard came up on the screen. “I set these up outside. If he sets one foot in your yard, I’ll know about it.”

“But what if he’s underground?”

“Huh?”

“That’s how he gets around. He pops right out of the ground.”

“What?”

“That’s how he came to me after he died.” As Joanne was talking, the entire kitchen rattled for a second then the floor next to Punchline exploded causing broken wooden boards, kitchen tiles, and dirt flying out. The good evil clown took the blunt of the debris.

“I’m back, Joanne baby.” Much to Punchline’s shock, the description of Dennis Kubrick being a zombie was accurate. The skin around the top of his head, mouth, right hand, left forearm, chest, stomach and knees were missing with intestines exposed. What was left of his skin was gray and dried out. He was still dressed in the black suit and white shirt he was buried in except his clothes were tattered and covered in dust and his shirt was opened revealing his partially exposed rip cage and intestines. Worse, he stunk. The kitchen reeked of the musk of rotting flesh. “Hey! Who are you?”

“I’m Punchline, Joanne’s bodyguard. You must be D.K. How’s life been treating you?”

“Ha ha,” the zombie deadpanned. “Now outta my way, kid. Me and Joanne’s leaving.” D.K. shoved Punchline to the size only to have Punchline grab his arm, bend down, and flip the zombie over his back. “Is that all you got?” D.K. chuckled as he picked himself off the floor. “Let me show you how it’s done.” The refrigerator door folded when D.K. drove his fist into it.

“Ooh! You are strong.” Punchline gripped D.K. wrist. “How about a manly handshake.” A surge of electricity traveled through D.K.’s desolate body, but it had no effect on him.

“That tickles.” D.K. threw Punchline over his shoulder and into the kitchen table burying him under his meal.

“D.K. please,” Joanne begged, “he’s only a child.”

“He’s one of those Meta-what-it’s.”

“It’s Metadeliquent.” Rita and Seth were in their superhero gear ready to take on the monster that had invaded Joanne’s home. “And Joanne’s ain’t your girl, Zombie man.”

“She’s not yours either, Deathtone.” Rita whispered to Seth.

“Who asked you?”

“You want me to hold off my evil kidnapping plot till you done?" D.K. got his answer when Deathtone let lose a sonic attack that sent him crashing through the wall and into the next-door neighbor’s yard.

“Joanne, it’s not safe for you here,” said the Gatekeeper as she opened a portal for her but Joanne froze up for a second and started shaking. “Joanne?”

“I can’t,” said a quivering Joanne. Her eyes fixated in panic at the furious monster rabbit gazing down at her from the other side of the portal. “Keep it away!” Joanne ran shrieking from the portal.

“It’s only Mr. Whiskers. He won’t hurt you.” But Rita’s pleads went unheeded. Joanne was in too much of a panic to listen or to notice she was running straight to D.K.

The decaying husk scooped Joanne into his arms and twirled her around while spraying white silk from his mouth. “I don’t have anymore business here. Ta ta!” With his parting, D.K. burrowed back into the ground with the object of his affection churning a trail into the ground that rose just above the surface before it sloped down in height and completely disappeared.

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Riker’s Island

A pop belly prison guard with blond-hair cut in a crue cut dragged his night stick along the cell bars during his 11 pm rounds as he strolled down the dimly lit hallway as his shoes tapped against the cold, hard concrete flood. With each cell he passed, he shined his flashlight at the prisoners’ bunks and waved the spotlight at their heads making sure they’re sound asleep. Some of the prisoners cursed in protest of being disturbed, while the more passive aggressive prisoners yanked their filthy, ripped-up sheets over their heads and brooded over their obnoxious guard. Diamond Joe turned his head to the wall when it was his turn. The room brightened as the beam of light was reflected and scattered through the room. As the guard made his way to the next cell, Diamond Joe exhaled annoyingly. Diamond Joe hated being kept awake by the prison guards; almost as much as he hated being put in a prison with common, unwashed criminals, and having to eat bad food instead of the gourmet pallets he was accustomed to; not to mention the toilet was making an irritating gurgling noise. Joe buried his head underneath his pillow, but he could still the toilet gurgling.

“Guard,” Joe yelled out. “The toilet needs serving.”

“Service it yourself,” the guard snidely replied.

Joe stomped out of his bunk and to the toilet to see a woman’s head inside. The diamond-studded villain clinched his mouth and barely muffled his startled scream.

“Keep it down,” said the head with an Eastern European accent. It slowly rose out the toilet with a body in tow, if it could be called that. Her body, as well as her head, seemed to ripple as she moved almost as if she was made of puddy. And her body glistened from the layer of slime covering her.

“Oh, it’s you Slug,” said Diamond Joe with disgust. “What brings a hideous blob like yourself here?”

The Slug didn’t like the way this chauvinistic pig treated her. She was as much as a woman, no more so, than the bimbos that flock around him. But she put her feelings aside. She had a mission and maybe if she proved herself, she can regain her humanity from the very man that took it from her. “I have a gift from the Alchemist.”

“Unless, it’s freedom, I’m not interested.”

She took from her pocket of her yellow jumpsuit a zip bag with a green pill inside. “It’s that and revenge.” But instead of taking her kind offer, Diamond Joe backed away. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s been in the sewer.”

“I have it in a plastic bag. It’s safe.”

“And what’s it suppose to do?”

“There are nanobots inside the capsule; tiny microscopic machines that will repair your cybernetics.”

Diamond Joe made a sour look with his face as he reluctantly took the pills from the Slug. Diamond Joe hastily popped the pill in his mouth and fought his revulsion and the need to vomit it out of his stomach.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

Diamond Joe showed his gratitude by grabbing the Slug by the throat in both hands. As her neck was squeezed to the thickness of a quarter, her head swelled up as if she was a cartoon character. “This has better work, you disgusting creature.”

“Just try bending the bars,” the Slug choked.

Diamond Joe left off his deathgrip, wiped the slime off his hands on the sheet, and gripped the bars. At first nothing happened. But slowly, the bars creaked when they made a slight bend. Then suddenly, in a fraction of a second, Diamond Joe yanked the bars from the top and bottom of the cell door and dislodging the rest of them as his backhand plowed through the bars. Diamond Joe couldn’t help but look smug after his ‘godhood’ has been returned to him.

“Now knock a hole in the wall so we can get out through the prison yard before the guards come,” the Slug said worriedly as the lights came on all at once and the alarm system blared though the once silent prison. But Diamond Joe didn’t share his partner’s dread. Instead, he strutted out of his cell and congenially waved to his fellow inmates. “What are doing?”

“Breaking out of jail in style. Expect nothing less from Felipe Malconi.” Prison guards from the front and back stampeded their way to Diamond Joe and piled on top of him and the Slug until they formed two mounds of blue-uniformed bodies on top of the assailants.

“Release me, you filthy commoners!” The guards flew off in all directions some of them splattering against the whitewashed concrete walls while others clanging against iron jail bars. Diamond Joe stood in their mists; arms stretched out victoriously. “Felipe is his old self again!”

The Slug squirmed her way though the pile of guards and ran to the vain, diamond-studded villain and hid behind him. “The Alchemist has orders to...” Diamond Joe turned around and kicked her against the wall.

“Never touch me again you slimy excuse for a woman.” He pinched his orange prison jumpsuit between his fingers. “These clothes are beneath Felipe. My next stop is the Boutique da Venice.” And Diamond Joe went back strutting his way out of prison.

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CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 09:01 PM

(continued from the last post)

From the view of a lonely cliff, the city lights covered the landscape like shining Christmas lights tossed at random along a black floor. Apart from a few rocks obscured in shadow and a waist high metal guard rail, the area was clear of any obstructions. But the quiet, serene view was disturbed by a tremor shaking the rocks till one of them fell over the edge. Then the ground exploded and the monstrosity called D.K. rose from the earth with his captive encased in silk. He parted the cocoon from the head down. When her face was free of the cocoon, Joanne hurriedly gasped for air. Her short red hair and forehead were wet with perspiration with strands of silk still tangled in her hair.

“You know where we are sweetie?” D.K. said giddy with enthusiasm. Joanne slowly shook her head. “You don’t remember?” D.K. turned her around facing the view of the city. “Before Norman took you from me. ‘The city looks so much nicer at a distance instead of up close’. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“I...I...I think so.”

“You remember?”

“Now I do.” Joanne felt like crying, but she restrained herself.

“And it was me who showed it to you, not Norman. He never knew how to treat you, sweetie. And with my new powers, there’s nothing in the world I can’t get for you.”

“It was the night before we graduated from college; just you, me, and Norman. Norman brought some Jack Daniels to celebrate.” The pent-up rage inside D.K. was beginning to show in his fiery, wolf-like eyes. “You two clipped the whole bottle, and I had to wrestle the keys from Norman to keep him from driving back home drunk.”

“ENOUGH ABOUT NORMAN!” D.K. stamped his foot on the ground. “ALL I HEAR FROM YOU IS NORMAN! He’s gone! I saw to it myself!”

“But Norman was your friend. Don’t you remember?”

“Ha!” D.K. deadpanned, “only because he was close to you.”

Joanne looked perplexed. She was certain that Norman and D.K. was close. “But I thought you were both friends.”

“I tolerated him because of you. I couldn’t stand the guy.”

“But how?” Joanne sounded confused and agitated. “You were a good man before you died.”

“I’ll let you in on two little secrets. One, I’m not dead. Yes, I was dying of cancer, but I found out about a formula that supposes to grant immortality. Later, I found out it only keeps the brain alive. The rest of the body rots away. But don’t worry, I’ll find a way to stop it. And here’s number two: I was only nice because I had to be. I was nice to Norman to get close to you. I’m only a ‘good’ man for the same reason everyone else is good: because I can’t do what I truly want without getting away with it. But now, I’m unstoppable. I’m beyond the law. I’m even beyond death and the consequences of the afterlife now that I’m immortal. I’m not really that bad. I’m only doing what anyone else would do in my position. Joanne?” There was answer from her. “Joanne?” D.K. glanced around the area. “Joanne!” Joanne’s reply was with a rock slamming against D.K.’s face.

“You pig!” Joanne takes another swipe at him again. “You selfish @#%@#$%!” Joanne hit D.K. with a jagged part of the rock in his right eye, which was now tumbling away.

“My eye!” The decaying corpse shrieked while covering the right side of his face. Maggots were falling though the spaces between his fingers. “Look what you’ve done!” When D.K. moved his hand, Joanne screamed. What was supposed to be an empty socket was infested with maggots. D.K. picked up his right eye and placed it back into the socket, but it wouldn’t stay. The eye rolled out of its socket. D.K. picked up the eye and put it in the socket, but again, the eye rolled out. D.K. picked the eye and put it back in his socket for a third time. “Oh we’re so over now, you tart!”

“She was never yours, D.K.” D.K. gazed up at the three Metadeliquents as his eye came out. This time, D.K. didn’t bother picking it up. Rita opened a portal for Joanne to go through. “Don’t worry about D.K., we’ll take care of him.” D.K. then grabbed Joanne’s arm.

“And where you think you’re going?” D.K. squeezed Joanne’s arm until her forearm became a bright red from the lack of circulation.

“She ain’t yours rot boy!” Deathtone interjected before Punchline slammed his clown hammer into D.K.’s chest. The blast left a fist-sized burn mark on D.K.’s chest and sent him reeling backwards. However, D.K. was determined to keep his grip on Joanne and yanked her along with him. The sudden jolt on Joanne’s arm pulled her arm out its socket. The young woman yelped out in pain. “Cut it out, Punchline!” Deathtone yelled in concern for Joanne’s safety.

D.K. hid behind Joanne. His hands were over her mouth and throat. “You won’t be my love, Joanne. So you can be my hostage.”

“How dare you do that to the woman you’re suppose to love!” Rita slumped over knowing all too well who it was that just dropped in. “I, Heart Protector Tome, will teach you the error of your ways.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 09:02 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Boy you Metas were scrapping the bottom of the barrel for that one,” D.K. chuckled. “Whacha going to do? Make me laugh to death?”

Tome closed her eyes, extended her arms, and raised her arms at chest level. Suddenly a pink ray of light shined in the palm of her hands, and in its place, a blue staff with a pink heart and white ribbon attached materialized in her hands. And as her staff was materializing, an aura of white light slowly enveloped her body. The glare reflected off her skin making her looking ghostly white. “Now, you will know what true love is.” All of the Metadeliquents froze in their place in amazement and disbelief. Punchline’s lower jaw almost fell out of his mouth if it was any wider. Deathtone’s face could barely contain the bulging pair of brown eyes trying to pop out of their socket. Gatekeeper didn’t appear to have any expression but it could have been just because her full face mask concealed it. She raises her wand up in her right hand. The aura’s brightness increased in magnitude. “EMPATHY.” Tome waves the wand across her chest and to her left side “MODE.” Now the cliff glowed with the intensity of the Houston Astrodome. “BLITZ” Tome swung her arm to the right. As she did, a wave of pink energy rippled across the lookout point going passing through Joanne as if she wasn’t there and striking D.K. The zombie let off his grip on his human shield and his body was struck with paralysis and stiffened. The only sign of moment made by D.K. was his trembling hands

“She really does have powers,” Rita whispered.

“Yeah, but whadda she do to him,” said Punchline, “And what’s an ‘empathy mode blitz’?”

The energy wave started from his chest and worked its way through D.K.’s rotting body. Residual energy slowly dispelled from his body in the form of a luminous pink mist until the energy wave vanished from site. For a whole minute, no one moved. The Metadeliquents were overwhelmed by the morbid sense of curiosity; the same sort of morbid curiosity one has when watching a scene from a horror movie where a hapless teenager flees for her life only to run across the monster and as the monster closes in for the kill, the scene changes leaving the audience to imagine what gruesome demise the beast had for its victim.

“Will he explode?” Rita thought.

“Is he going to finish rotting away?” Punchline thought.

“Darn it, if it wasn’t for Tome, I could have saved Joanne and she might have let me be her new boyfriend,” thought Deathtone. Well, maybe not all of them.

Instead, D.K. fell to his bony knees that clicked when they hit the ground and cried. “What have I done?” He gazed at Joanne in what appeared to be remorse in his eyes even though one of them was a hollow cavity stuffed with maggots. “Please forgive me for killing your husband and making you so sad. I shouldn’t have been so jealous.”

Joanne backed away from the zombie in mourning. “I don’t know if I can’t.”

“Even if you don’t, I’ll still try to show you the love you deserve.”

Rita tapped Heart Protector Tome on the shoulder. “Wow! I didn’t think you...You did great. Sorry I doubted you.”

Tome did a cute pose by touching the side of her mouth with her pinky finger, holding out her wand, and winking. “That’s alright.”

But their victory celebration proved to be somewhat premature when a fleshless fist collided with Rita’s head knocking her to the ground. The impact was strong enough for female superhero to plow ten feet into the grass. D.K. single eye stared directly down at Gatekeeper. The joints of his knuckles cracked as the zombie opened his fist and spread out his fingers as far as they could go before closing his fist again. “You,” D.K. said with utter contempt in his voice, “on the other hand, I don’t care for.” D.K. glanced back at Joanne. “I’m going to keep my promise and make up for all of the bad things I’ve done to you as soon as I’m done taking out the garbage.”

“But you’re suppose to be good now,” Heart Protector Tome whined with both hands on her cheeks which are moist with the tears streaming from her eyes. At her feet, her raccoon mascot tugged on her stockings trying to lead her away.

“But I am,” D.K. batted the magical girl to the side, “just not to you little pests.”

Gatekeeper rubbed the spot on the side of her head where D.K. hit her. She opened a portal next to Joanne who, this time, went though without question. “Punchline! Deathtone! You heard the zombie. He’ll live so long as his head’s okay.”

Punchline and Deathtone’s eyes glared at D.K. as wolves in anticipation of ripping apart the poor deer that would be their next meal. They knew Rita hinted to them to not hold back. They were free to take off the gloves and let lose. Deathtone fired a sonic blast at D.K that created a rippling wake of distorted air. D.K. stuck out his right hand trying to block it. Instead, the concentrated blast dislodged D.K.’s arm out of its socket and sent it hurtling into the woods. If D.K. could still feel pain, he didn’t show it. He neither flinched nor cried out in pain. Deathtone fired another sonic blast, but this time, D.K. learned his lesson that he wasn’t the immobile object to Deathtone’s irresistible force. The blast came within inches of hitting the zombie who ducked in the nick of time and rolled to the side as Deathtone swept the ground with his sonic blast that carved a trench two feet wide and twenty feet long along the ground in a semi-circular path and a dust cloud above it. As he was rolling along the ground, D.K. did a hand stand and hand-springing over Deathtone’s sonic blast, which was an impressive feat since he did so in all one fluid movement and with only his left arm. He succeeded but almost leaped into He succeeded but almost leaped into Punchline’s clown hammer that was revved back waiting for the monster to land. Punchline batted at the zombie only for the monstrosity to catch the head of the hammer while he was still in mid-air and broke it off. D.K. landed on his feet and then kicked Punchline off the cliff if not for a portal catching him in mid-fall. The momentum from D.K.’s kick carried Punchline through the mouth of the portal to the other side leading to some bushes that broke Punchline’s fall.

“This is all your fault!” D.K. charged at Gatekeeper with his fist extended outward ready to take Rita’s head off, but D.K. was intending to fake the child superhero out if she does what D.K. expected her to do. Sure enough, Rita opened a portal between her and D.K. leading to a thick oak tree. In the last fraction of a second, D.K. did exactly as he had planned. He leaped over Rita’s portal and was barring on top of her. Rita held out her arms in a defensive posture and braced herself for D.K.’s attack. Instead, Rita’s eardrums felt as if they were about to explode out of her skull from this ear-piercing scream. She looked up to see that D.K. was longer overhead. She glanced around and saw the zombie, to her left, on the ground missing both of his arms, to her right, Deathtone arrogantly smirking at D.K.

D.K. cursed himself for not escaping underground while he had the chance and for letting his anger and frustration get the best of him. Now, he was missing both arms. Without them, he could not tunnel away to safety. Maggots squirmed their way through the stumps and empty cavity where D.K.’s arms and eye were. D.K.’s escape route above the surface was closed off in three directed: the screaming boy to the right, the clown to the left of him, and the girl with the portals in front. There was only one option left; only path he can take. The ‘unarmed’ villain leaped over the guard rails. He fell a good forty feet before hitting the steep wall of the cliff. For a fraction of a second, D.K. managed to keep his balance and slide down the steep cliff wall feet first, but then he lost his balance and tumbled down along the rocky incline. A cloud of dust and lose rocks escorted him to the rocky ground over a hundred feet down at the base of the cliff.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

11-15-2005, 09:02 PM

(continued from the last post)

D.K. lay on his belly. His body was dusty from the red sand gathered on his trip down and was speckled with gashes and dents. Maggots oozed out of the newly formed gashes and squirmed on the ground blindly trying to get back to their source of rotten meat. D.K. rolled on his back. He grunted as he sat up, and, putting his feet flat on the ground, forced himself to stand up even though he knew that, if the Metadeliquents didn’t get him, the eventual decay of his body would.

“Stop right there!” Rita commanded D.K. The Metadeliquents piled out of the portal entrance and, as before, surrounded him and with his back against the cliff wall. D.K.’s head darted to the sides. The screaming boy was to the left, the clown to the right, and the girl in the middle, and a solid wall of rock to his back. D.K., in a last desperate attempt, stooped down, braced his feet, and charged head on at the girl but could only get a few steps before he was struck by a sonic blast...

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After twenty years on the force, Lieutenant Michelle Barnes thought she saw it all: the ugliness and cruelty of man, the varying assortment of criminals, psychos, and out right weirdoes, all of the lies and sob stories given to excuse their behavior, and worst of all, the victims and the sorrows they were forced to endure. And she had the graying hair and wrinkled face from the long hours and sleepless hours to prove it. It was these experiences, that and a tripped knee that gotten worse over time that lead her to her reassignment to the dispatch station at her precinct and the metal split going through her shin bone. But even here, she wasn’t safe from the oddities that came through the doors. A circle of blue electricity expanded in front of her desk. Barnes watched enough news to know who was paying a visit.

“You got a lot of nerve breaking into a police station!” Officer Barnes held out her hand while switching on the precinct intercom system with the other.

“Wait!” Gatekeeper yelled. “We got a crook for you to lock up.”

“And we’ll lock you up with him,” said Officer Barnes. “All officers, come to the front...” Rita pulled the speaker away from Barnes.

“But he’s the guy that killed Norman Fields.”

Officer Barnes pulled the speaker away from Gatekeeper and spoke into it. “All officers, delay that order.” Barnes switched off the intercom. “Okay, let me here it.”

Punchline hopped scotched with a burlap sack twisting in his hand and tossed the bag on Barnes’ desk. “Tada!”

Barnes recoiled from the rotten, road-kill odor and gripped her nose between her index finger and thumb. “What the hell is that stench?”

“That’s Norman Fields’ killer, Dennis Kubrick. D.K. for short,” said Punchline gleefully. The clown widened the sack’s opening for Barnes to peak in. The officer almost fell out of her chair from the fright of seeing D.K.’s dismembered body. The head, arms, and legs were separated from his torso.

“YOU KILLED HIM!”

“No we didn’t.” Punchline reached into the bag, pulled out D.K.’s head, and poked him in the eye.

“Hey, cut it out!” D.K.’s one good eye was sealed tight underneath his eyelid from being poked. “Now I’m blind.” Barnes could barely keep from wetting herself upon hearing D.K.’s severed head talk on its own.

“He’s alive sort of,” said Rita. “He took some weird mad scientist formula and turned himself into a zombie.”

“He can live without his body,” said Deathtone.

“Just call Joanne Fields. D.K. confessed to killing her husband to her.”

Officer Barnes could barely maintain her sanity, and now these freaky super kids want her to arrest a zombie. “I’ll get right on it,” she hesitantly complied.

“Thanks.” With that, Rita, Seth, and Punchline disappeared into a portal leaving Officer Barnes with a bag full of rotten body parts.

Officer Barnes poked at the bag afraid the parts will get up and move on their own and attack her. “Yo Barnes,” cried out a younger female voice off to the side. “What’s that smell? Did something crawl up in here and died?”

Before Barnes could find the words to explain what happened, a young oriental man came though the station doors. “Excuse me, sir,” said Officer Barnes in a stressed voice, “is this an emergency cause I’m in the middle of something.”

“Yeah, a prank.”

“WHAT!”

The young man causally leaned against Barnes’ desk and closed his eyes and said in a polite but haughty voice. “You *do* know those children are playing a prank on you. This isn’t the first time they’ve done it.” The young man tossed the head up playfully. “Cheap Halloween prop with a tape recorder stuffed in the head, though the stink bomb adds a bit of realism to it,” he gleefully added.

Barnes, with a disgusted look, pushed the burlap sack off her desk. “Those brats! I’ll kill ‘em the next time they show their faces here.”

The young man picked up the sack. “Tell you what, I’ll dump this in the nearest garbage bin for you.”

“I’d appreciate it, sir.” Then Barnes noticed that the man hasn’t said why he came to the station. “Oh that’s right. I forgot all about you complaint.”

The young man held his hands out. “Oh don’t worry about that. It’s not important.”

“Okay. Have a good night sir.”

When the young man walked out of the station and turned the corner, he scrutinized the block for eavesdroppers. When he was satisfied that no one was looking, the young man peered inside the bag. “You’re Dennis Kubrick, right?”

“Yeah so?” D.K.’s severed head replied. It rolled around an arm that was blocking its view of the young man.

“The name’s Satoshi, and I work for the man who created the formula that made you what you are; the stolen formula you bought off the black market.”

“Well tell that bozo it doesn’t work!” D.K. didn’t hold back his resentment over the drawbacks of his ‘immortality’.

“Don’t be that way, not when he can fix you up. How about cloned body parts to replace the ones you lost fighting the Metadeliquents? They’ll rot like your old ones, but we can make as many as you need. And we have ways to make them last a little longer than a few weeks.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

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So, this chapter ends with the Alchemist picking up, not one, but two more supervillains for his army. What sinister plan does the Alchemist have in store for Rita and her friends.

Rita: UGH! They’re not my friends. You are such a liar.

Oops, sorry. Read future installments of Metadeliquents to see the Alchemist’s plans unfold and meet the next terror that the Metadeliquents must face. For the next issue, a living stone figure called the Golem cuts a path of destruction across the globe and it’s up to the Metas to put the Alchemist’s latest beast out of commission. Can they combine their powers and save the world or will this new foe overwhelm our heroes? Oh, and there’s a teeny tiny little plot twist in the next issue too.

CrossoverManiac

06-01-2006, 07:14 PM

Metadeliquents
Issue 14: Golem Attacks: The Alchemist’s Creation is on the Rampage
The Metadeliquents are the exclusive property of Timothy Weaver a.k.a. CrossoverManiac

General Nikolakis knew someday the Alchemist’s pet monster would get out of control. It was just a few years ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. Because Nikolakis served him loyally since the fall of the Soviet Union, the Alchemist trusted Nikolakis enough to confide in him the existence of his ultimate weapon; a being of his own creation that possessed immense physical strength and invulnerability to all known conventional weaponry. Nikolakis remembered how the Alchemist lit up with vigor as he went into intricate detail and technical jargon describing every nuance of his monster; enthusiasm that was not shared by the ex-Soviet officer. To the contrary, Nikolakis pleaded with his employer to put down his beast less it were to turn on him, but the Alchemist would not heed his general’s prophetic words. Rather he would jokingly issue official orders for Nikolakis to stop watching black-and-white sci-fi flicks, in front of his men, subordinates joining in on a good laugh followed by pranks, fake monster alerts, and cheap paperback copies of Frankenstein stuffed between the sheets of his bed. Nikolakis knew the Alchemist was playing these games to discredit him in front of his own men and to squelch any concerns they had that maybe Nikolakis was right. And now, it looked like his worst fear has come true.

“General Nikolakis,” a voice cried out over the rustling static of Nikolakis’ walkie-talkie, “this is Base Panacea. We have taken heavy losses and are calling for assistance.”

“So, it’s begun, as I foretold.” Though Nikolakis would love nothing better to do than rub this in the Alchemist’s face, he would have to wait, his full attention was placed upon micromanaging his sorry-excuse for soldiers, in reality ex-cons and mercenaries, the scum of society. He prepared for this occasion as best he could, evident by the self-propelled howitzers, trucks hauling around mounted cannons which barrels ran the length of the flatbeds and tank turrets fitted with the larger turrets motors necessary for faster aiming, in addition to an automatic reloading mechanism that allowed for rapid fire. Special land mines were buried just in front the entrance of the underground base that could be armed as a last ditch effort, complimenting the arsenal. His ‘anti-Frankenstein’ artillery, as Nikolakis called it, was standing guard at the foot of a large dark gray mountain whose peak couldn’t be seen from the thick cloud cover overhead.

“General sir,” Lieutenant Colonel Lutz saluted, “our patrol helicopters spotted the beast three miles away“. He was, like Nikolakis, a holdover from the Cold War and one of the few men hired by the Alchemist that he’d trust as a second-in-command.

“Order them back to base, Lutz.”

“We can’t sir, they were destroyed.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then launch the VTOL’s and tell them keep watch at 5000 feet above ground level.”

“Sir, it’s too late.” Lutz pointed to the very creature itself.

“It’s already here? It’d have to be moving at least 200 kph to cover that much distance. Fire at will!”

The battlefield rattled from the artillery fire and the bursting shells. In seconds, the scent of gun powder residue was thickening into a semi-sweet aroma causing the general to turn his head and cough as the concentrated fire ejected a thick fog of dirt that obscured the target. Continuing the assault, his men concentrated their fire at the center of the cloud, hoping some of the shells would make a hit.

Suddenly, the creature darted out of the cloud ramming a tank head on. The foot thick steel armor gave like cheap cardboard, the tank bending like a car that had ran into a tree, wrapping its front around the monster’s frame, which hoisted the demolished tank in the air, tossing it at a howitzer. Both tank and howitzers were destroyed on impact leaving a massive fireball that floated upward directly above the remains.

Swept by a wave of cowardice, the remaining tank crews and artillerymen evacuated their vehicles scattering in all directions with the exception of Nikolakis and Lutz, who was trying to lead Nikolakis away by the arm.

“General Nikolakis, sir, we must retreat!” Lutz pleaded with his commanding officer. His request was promptly declined via a right hook in the face by Nikolakis.

“Coward! Every last one of you!” Nikolakis took the controls of one of the automatic, rapid fire howitzers, taking aim at the beast and firing one-hundred fifty-five millimeter shells at a rate of a round per second, the resultant fire blast nailing the creature dead center. “Curse the Alchemist for enlisting such scum,” he cursed. The creature braced itself to the howitzer fire and crept slowly to the howitzer. “I want real men; real soldiers! Like the ones I had during the Cold War!” The general didn’t let up with his attack even as the barrel began to glow red, warping from the excessive heat. But the creature was as determined as the general and continued advancing. “And I certainly don’t want a monster.” The creature side-stepped the howitzer’s line of fire and kicked the front of the self-propelled cannon flipping it over. General Nikolakis held on the control console and cringed in anticipation of being crushed under the weight of his own weapon only to be jolted from a sudden stop and fall to the ground, the howitzer that should have flattened him, instead, hovering just overhead. At the other end of the howitzer was the Alchemist’s pet monster, arms raised above its head and supporting the weight of the howitzer.

“Where’s the Alchemist?” The creature asked. ‘It’ was about four feet tall and appeared to be a young preteen girl except for its skin, which was light gray in color and had the texture and grainy appearance of sandpaper. Its, no, her, eyes were white globes, lacking visible pupils. The creature’s dark gray, waist-length hair was matted and in tangles.

“Die, beast.” General Nikolakis drew his sidearm and fired at the creature, watching as the bullets ricocheted off the creature’s stony skin.

“You are really stupid, you know.”

Before Nikolakis had a chance to reload his pistol, the creature flipped the howitzer to the side and gripped the general’s sidearm in her tiny but incredibly powerful hands, crushing it.

“Those could have bounced right off me and hit you. Now tell me where’s the Alchemist?”

“He’s hiding in one of his American bases.”

“That’s it?”

“He tells me nothing. I’m a joke to him.”

“But I’m not. And if I have to tear each and every one of them apart, I’ll find him.”

“I hope you try, and whatever plane you’re on falls into the ocean on the way.”

The creature thumped Nikolakis on the forehead knocking him backwards and unconscious.

“Jerk.”

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Osric of Camlann, the man known to the underworld as the fabled Alchemist, viewed the upheaval of the secret Panacea base from a bird’s eye view, as displayed on the large television screen in the front of his dimly lit conference room, turned away from the rectangular oak table behind him. The view of the battlefield was occasionally obscured by a thick black cloud of smoke from the burning wreckage whenever the wind shifted direction. A gray figure darted from one side of the screen to the other. The camera angle shifted to the gray figure as it hoisted a tank off its caterpillar threads and tossing it into another tank, crushing its gun turret in the process.

“That’s all that’s left of our hidden base in Romania.” The Alchemist turned around in his swivel chair and faced the young woman that was speaking; her face couldn’t be seen due to the room’s lack of lighting. “Go to the next footage.”

In the blink of an eye, the battlefield was replaced on the television screen with yet another decimated base. Mounds composed of concrete chunks occupied the space where buildings once stood, patches of fire flickered over the charred remnants of tanks and helicopters as soldiers carrying away the wounded in stretchers or attending to their wounds on the spot, not a single man without bandage or blood.

“This happened thirty minutes ago to the Trismegistus base in Portugal. She’s ruining everything you worked centuries to build,” warned the woman. “She’s gone too far this time.”

“That’s not for you to decide! Remember who’s in charge around here.” Another voice, belonging to an older man, rebuked her. This voice sat opposite of the young woman. “Though our leader should take what you said in consideration.”

(continues on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-01-2006, 07:16 PM

(continued from the last post)

The woman quickly stood up, knocking over her chair in haste. “Sir,” she said passionately, “she’s isn’t worth it! Not for you to lose everything, you deserve better than that little brat!”

“Poison and I don’t normally see eye-to-eye,” said the voice of a man at the other end of the table, “but she’s right. That monster is more of a threat than an asset.”

“As has already been expressed, that is not your decision,” the Alchemist sternly replied.

The woman sighed in over the lack of concerned that her leader had over the situation. Why must he tolerate that beast?

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School came to a close on a bright May afternoon. Rita stepped off the bus for the last time as a fifth grader. Three months from now, she would start her last year as an elementary school student and hopefully her last year with Naomi Styler. Best of all, she wouldn’t have to worry about balancing school work with her other job as the superhero Gatekeeper, leader of the Metadeliquents. She’d sacrificed so much, sleep reduced to an archaic concept as a result of fighting the bad guys and bad grades. And there was also the lack of time to goof off, watch TV, play video games or spend time with Abigail and Hitomi. Worst, she knew what really happen to her father; how it was Justin and his goons that cause the fire in the secret government laboratory that her father, Theodore Williams, was blamed for, and how she could never tell anyone the truth without putting her secret identity at risk.

Just as she turned a corner, passing a thick oak tree whose roots were pushing through the fractured sidewalk, Rita felt herself being hoisted off the ground into the oak’s branches.

“Hiya bestest best friend Rita.” Punchline waved hello to Rita while hanging upside down from a branch.

“Punchline,” Rita huffed in frustration, “now what?”

“I wanna build a superhero tree house right here.” Punchline patted the tree trunk with the palm of his hand. “It’s like a regular tree house only you do superhero stuff in it. Oh, and Diamond Joe broke out of jail.”

“Did you say Diamond Joe escaped?” Rita balked. “Did you say he wouldn’t have super strength anymore if we short-circuited him?”

“And the tree house will have computers and a laboratory and air conditioning and a bed and a refrigerator and we won’t have to sleep in a tent.”

“You can’t put a tree…”

“And a bunny house for Mr. Whiskers.”

“But what about Diamond...”

“And it needs...”

“PUNCHLINE!”

Punchline put his hands around his waist, expression stern and indignant yet comically exaggerated. “Well, exxxxcuse me for being homeless.”

“I’m sorry, Punchline,” said Rita who lamented yelling at Punchline, who only wanted what she took for granted all her life. “And I’ll find you a place to stay, but I have to know about Diamond Joe.”

“’kay. It’s really weird, they said a woman came out of the toilet and gave him some pills. Then he ripped the bars off his cell and walked out of prison.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Maybe the news guys on TV are, but I’m not.”

Rita’s eyes peered down in frustration. “Someone else is behind all this.”

“Well duh! The Tamer, Diamond Joe, and Red Harpy had to have help busting out jail.” Punchline curved his arm downward making his hand out to be a bird of prey swooping down. “And then Red Harpy scooped up N’Shash out from underneath us.”

“Maybe, if we find out whose collecting supervillains, maybe we can stop him and then stop all of them.”

“If we knew who he is.”

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The wind whistled in Golem’s ears as she plummeted to the earth as the human slab of granite descended, her hair dancing on end with the rushing air; from her vantage point, trees appeared to be the size of ants and cars the size of gnats. Golem had been able to sneak into an airport and stole away on a plane to the United States, waiting until the plane flew over land and jumping out. The Lilliputian landscape grew larger with each passing second of her fall to earth, low enough to the ground to make out the faces of people then deep enough to snap tree limbs and generate a loud thud. Golem crashed in the middle of a forest, her body speared through the soft, black soil gouging a hole three feet deep. The stone-skinned girl dug her way out of the ground and tossing grains of dirt through the air like black snow flakes from her hair. A fall that would leave a normal human a smear didn’t even leave a bruise on the beast.

It was about twenty miles south of Richmond, Virginia, or that was what the guy she roughed on the plane told her. From the hill she crashed into, Golem could see a multi-lane highway with a row of tollbooths lined across the road letting s car through one at a time for each lane. Certain she had her bearings, Golem ran through the woods faster than anything man or animal could travel on foot toppling any trees in her way.

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Rita’s arm firmly gripped the cordless phone in her hand. “Yes, Edna, I know we’ve been slacking on saving the environment.” Rita’s superhero team had been minus two members since their mother pitched a fit when Rita wouldn’t allow the Metadeliquents to fight alongside the environmental warrior in her crusade against corporate polluters and people who ate meat or whatever it was she was opposed to. “I’m sorry I blamed you for the volcano machine,” Rita said with false contrition in her voice. Rita knew it had to be her fault that whoever made the volcano knew the twins would be in Peru, barring that someone knew their secret identities. But since none of the other Metadeliquents were attacked, Etna had to have been the one to tip them off. “I’ll let Calvin and Kevin go to rallies with...you mean they’re still going...I see about the others coming too...The White House fired all the women that worked for the President except for one...yeah, she’s probably a floozy...Protest in front of the White House, seven, next Saturday night...? Great! Thanks for letting Calvin and Kevin come back to the team. We’ll see you at the White House. Bye.” Rita slammed the phone down in disgust. “UGH!!!”

Frustrated, Rita was in no mood to talk to anyone as the cordless phone rang again, some unfortunate soul incurring her wrath. “WHAT!!!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Calvin’s voice screamed back at Rita.

“I’m sorry,” Rita humbly apologized to Calvin.

“Well, you oughta. I didn’t have to call, you know. I should hang up and not tell you about the new supervillain.”

“I said I was sorry!” Rita snapped. What is it with this family? “Now tell me what’s up.”

“It’s been all over the news. Some little girl made out of rock’s been ripping up hidden military bases all over the world and she just wrecked another in Kentucky. Rumor has it the bases belong to a supervillain, though the government denies it.”

“Typical,” she spat; inwardly a sense of awe and terror came over Rita. A supervillain with an army was a bit beyond their scope given the lack of cohesion her own group possessed. And what if this ended up being orchestrated under the supervision of the same villain freeing all of the Metadeliquents’ past enemies…? “Do they know where Rock Girl’s hitting next?”

“No, but if it watch the news long enough, it’ll come up.”

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The coarse and dark gray tunnel floors and walls inside the mine alternated between light and shadow caused by the successive rows of lights and support beams that pin-marked the tunnel with crevices. Deeper into the cave, cobwebs draping the crevices fluttering in the light breeze made the air ventilation system while it was piping fresh air into the mine. The tunnel branched off into three caves each one humming the tune of machines boring through the earth, each of which had a pair of railroad tracks threaded through them. However, Golem noticed four sets of rail tracks with the fourth going into the grey, coarse granite wall. Golem surveyed the wall for a hidden door, though there was no indication along the wall, Golem did not doubt it was there. Revving her fist back, she drove it through the wall, disintegrating the granite barrier. Light poured into the mine from a tunnel just behind the stone wall. It was much shorter than the others, and ended at a vault door with a silvery metal surface that glistened in the otherwise dimly lit mine. Small, stony hands plunged into the vault door and pulled. The stainless steel barrier screeched as it was being drawn out like taffy before being snatched off its hinges and causally tossed to the side while an alarm buzzed. The mangled slap of steel that was at one time a door cried out in anguish with an ear-shattering clang upon striking the floor. Responding to the waling alarm, guards clad in body armor and riot helmets marched in unison like to the breach in the hidden base. They lined up in a kneeling position and aimed their rifles at Golem.

(continues to the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-01-2006, 07:17 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Fire!” A guard in the back yelled. Multiple gunshots echoed through the cavern the sound of bullets ricocheting off Golem the cavern walls following.

“Cease fire and fall back!” The guard ordered before gesturing to a guard armed with a flame thrower. The guard kneeled into position and placed a wall of fire between himself and Golem. This didn’t halt Golem’s assault, as she walked forth from the fire wrapped in flames, showing no vulnerability to the gouts of flame. The guards backed away upon the flame-engulfed monster’s advance until they reached the chamber at the end of the cavern. The chamber, three stories tall and a hundred feet across, held a machine the size of a school bus, base metals like lead and tin fed at one end of the machine via conveyor belt, only to produce gold out the other.

“Osric’s transmutation machine,” Golem spat. Bolts, nuts, metal beams, plates, and wiring were strolled throughout the cavern floor thanks to the impact produced with each blow of Golem‘s granite fist. From the top of the cavern ceiling, came lose rock and dirt sprinkled over the remains of the transmutation machine. Within seconds, the transmutation machine was reduced to a heap of junk. “Let’s see how long you last without your fake gold.”

As Golem strode out of the lead mine, six shadows were cast along the cave floor, the Metadeliquents lying in wait for her at the cave’s entrance.

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“What the heck took you so long?” Golem asked with her hands on her hips as if she was an angry mother scolding her children for not doing their chores.

“What?!?” stammered Rita.

The stone creature’s lips twisted as if she was puzzled by Rita’s puzzlement. “Aren’t you the Metadeliquents?” the monster asked.

“Yeah and we’re here to kick your butt.” Deathtone boldly proclaimed.

“Hey,” the creature disdained, “I thought you were heroes!”

“We are,” said Gatekeeper, “and that’s why we’re not going to let you hurt anyone else.”

The stone stabbed at the mine shaft with a finger. “Look stupid,” she began, “those are the people you should be fighting. They work for the Alchemist.” The creature walked approached Gatekeeper threateningly. “Now outta my way.”

The Gatekeeper didn’t budge. “The only bad guy here is you,” she stated coolly, “and we’re not letting you get away.”

“Like you can stop me,” laughed Golem. “Go home before your mommy starts to worry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Gatekeeper looked over her shoulder to address Seth. “Deathtone, let her have it.”

Rita cleared the way for Deathtone, providing a clear shot at Golem, whose bare feet plowed the ground as she braced herself against the concussive force.

“Is that all you got, wimp!” Golem gloated.

Deathtone clinched his fist. “I’m just warming up, Rock Girl.” The incensed superhero unleashed the full fury of his sonic power. The concussive force propelled Golem backwards fifty feet; her back sliding along the soft ground. Golem laid momentarily in the trail that her body had made; rubbing her sore, nearly ruptured ears that still rung after Deathtone’s deafening scream. Golem got back on her feet, spared the group a spiteful glare and ran in the opposite directions of her opponents.

“Chicken,” taunted Deathtone. “Afraid you’re going to get rocked again, little girl?”

“Wait a sec.” Rita peered at the distant gray speck, which was getting larger. “She’s not running away.” The speck was closing in fast. “She’s charging!” Sure enough, Golem circled around and came at the Metadeliquents at full-speed; a cloud of beige dust traced her path. Golem’s footsteps sounded as like machine gun fire as her feet stomped the ground at many times per second until her legs were only a blur.

Deathtone fired another sonic attack, this time Golem side stepped the destructive force, sliding to a halt right in front of Deathtone and launching a haymaker. Deathtone ducked underneath Golem’s arms and fired a sonic blast, the latter already braced and plowing through the earth for the little that she was being pushed back. The stone-faced humanoid clinched her hands together over her head, yelled out a battle cry, and hammered into the ground, excavating sand and rubble from the point of impact and enveloping the battlefield in a light brown dust storm; however it was the secondary effect that played havoc on the Metadeliquents. The mini-earthquake jarred them off their feet.

Deathtone fell back while screaming, nearly hitting Punchline with a sonic blast. The blast missed the good evil clown by inches but hit the ten-foot wide front driver-side wheel of one of the two-thousand ton dump trucks that hauled dirt and debris from the mine. The sonic blast slammed into the tire of the mammoth dump truck like a vice pressing against the side of the tire till a bulging ring ascended along its rim. The ring ruptured as a blast of air erupted from the rend tire in a loud boom, the truck tilting over.

The rest of the Metadeliquents were on their backs as well except for Mr. Whiskers whose four feet made him far more stable than his two-footed human companions. Mr. Whiskers snarled and bared his ivory, saber-like teeth at the creature that attacked his human master and his friends, charging at the stone-skinned beast. Golem caught Mr. Whiskers in mid-air and slung him behind her back heaving the monster rabbit a block away.

“Mr. Whiskers,” screamed Punchline.

Mr. Whiskers tumbled along the ground another sixty feet. The monster rabbit, covered in dirt and his own blood, laid on his side and not moving except for the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest.

Not again, Punchline thought while a picture show of his first tiny bunny rabbit was trampled underneath the wheel of a car; let loose on the busy freeway under the negligent supervision of a person whose devilish grin was all that could be remembered. Then the images flashed back to the Tamer controlling the modified clone of his pet bunny, Mr. Whiskers; making him attack him and doing other bad things. Punchline agonized over how often he was forced to reprise the role of helpless bystander while the only real friend he had in the world was hurt again and again and again.

“I’LL KILL YOU!!! I’LL @#$@#$ KILL YOU!!!”

Fury consumed Punchline, distorting his already morbid clown face. The clown tossed a handful of his uber-cherry bombs, screaming insensibly at the monster that dare hurt what he held so close to his heart. Even though it appeared that he was throwing them with reckless abandonment, every single one of the bombs hit their mark and exploded almost simultaneously against Golem.

Surrounded by a flashing wall of white-hot fire and light-gray smoke, each breath Golem inhaled was contaminated with the sulfurous remnants of Punchline’s bomb. Golem hacked out a lung full of soot, partially blinded by smoke; she could only see an approaching shadow stepping to her side just before she felt a tremendous force strike the side of her head in a violent burst.

The directed explosive charge inside the head of Punchline’s clown hammer was set off, covering Golem’s face in a blue frame. In one fluidic movement, Punchline cocked the handle on his clown hammer, discharging the spent explosive charge, and struck Golem eight more times until his hammer ran out of charges.

The morbid clown, not letting up his attack on Golem, pressed his back against Golem and draped her arm over his shoulder, managing to get Golem off her feet and on his back before pausing as his knees almost gave. Regaining his balance, Punchline successfully flipped Golem onto the ground. The good evil clown reached behind his back, his face betraying a glimmer of pain before twisting back into the hate-filled demon that had brought him this far. Punchline‘s hand returned to the forefront, revealing a joybuzzer that was cranked up its highest setting via the generator in his coat pocket. Diving forward, his hand gripped the recovering Golem’s face.

(continues to the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-01-2006, 07:17 PM

(continued from the last post)

Hot blue sparks danced on Golem’s cheek as the electricity poured on, a cloud of ozone drifting from Punchline’s hand. Gritting his teeth, he took hold of his hand with the other, force himself to hold on. Golem, on the other hand, looked causally at Punchline as rage was giving way to nearly unbearable pain. Unable to bear the overheating joybuzzer, Punchline hastily pulled his hand away and tossed the joybuzzer off, receiving a body blow from Golem that threw him back.

Golem grinned in amusement at the good evil clown. “You’re even weaker than the cry baby!”

Punchline could not bear to see that beast unscathed and lunged at Golem having lost the last shred of restraint that he had. His rapidly pulsating heart beat in rhythm with his feet as he pounded his way unobstructed toward Golem, had a portal not opened between the two. Punchline tumbled into the portal and tripped while he tried to stop. His feral eyes scanned the battlefield until Golem was back in his sights. But before he had a chance to get back into the battle, Gatekeeper clipped his legs, tackling Punchline to the ground.

“Punchline,” Rita pleaded, “she’ll kill you. Let Dusk and Dawn handle it.” Rita held tight to the mantic Punchline.

“KILL HER! KILL HER!” Punchline howled.

As Rita tried to pin the Punchline down, a tidal wave of inky black tar rumpled as it skimmed the rocky, dry ground and swept Golem up, snared in Dusk’s shadow. The murky black poltergeist branched out into four tentacles and coiled around Golem’s arms and legs.

“You got her Calvin!” Dawn cheered.

For his part, Dusk was less than enthusiastic over Dawn’s victory chant. “No, real names stupid!” The fleeting distraction was enough to make Dusk regret letting his attention slip as Golem thrashed about, the colossal force lifting Dusk off his feet. The ensnared stone beast railed against the shadow snare as Dusk tumbled along the ground, the world spinning around him. Calvin Levy was completely disoriented. Golem wretched against the shadow tentacles again and sent Dusk airborne. Dawn aimed his hands in the middle of the shadow tentacles and fired his lasers. The sudden, intense burst of light dispersed the shadow and severing Dusk’s hold on Golem.

“Cal...I meant...Dusk, are you okay?” Dawn pleaded.

“No, and you won’t be either.” Golem balled up her fist at Dawn, whose legs were quivering.

Meanwhile the good evil clown remained undeterred in his desire to make Golem pay for hurting his pet rabbit, Mr. Whiskers; his stride was unbroken, even though Rita Williams clung to his left ankle. “Kill you. Kill you. Kill you.” Punchline repeated.

“PUNCHLINE! STOP RIGHT NOW!” Rita ordered, finding her command fell unheeded. Punchline set his icy black eyes on the object of his loathing. With each step Punchline took, Rita felt her hand losing its grip on his ankle. Rita pulled back her mask just below her nose and bit into Punchline’s leg as hard as she could. Punchline yelped in pain, hoisting Gatekeeper off the ground while rearing back his fist. Gatekeeper flinched bracing herself for Punchline’s blow. Though he wasn’t supposed to have superhuman strength, he was able to take apart two man-eating panthers in the time span between heartbeats, which meant that she was going to feel this one, super-bulletproof clothes or not.

“Rita?” A bewildered Punchline said. His fist slowly crept back to his side.

“Punchline! That monster’s beating the crap out of our friends. I need you think of something to beat it.” Gatekeeper pointed to Deathtone who was firing his sonic blasts at Golem who, a moment ago, was closing in on Dawn. Golem was blocking the sonic waves with her hands, the impact from the waves pushing her backward as it was deflected in a cone-shaped backwash. Then, from behind, Mr. Whiskers pounced on Golem’s back, who amazedly, managed to stay on her feet even though the added weight made them both sink a few inches into the ground. Seth ceased his sonic attack as Mr. Whiskers bit down on Golem’s head. Mr. Whiskers growled like a pair of hungry mutts fighting over a meat-covered bone trying to cleave Golem’s head off.

Punchline closed his eyes and concentrated; his breathing slowed to normal. Punchline reviewed the past ten minutes. His mind picked apart each little instance for a hint of weakness in their opponent.

“Water.”

“What?”

“It’s her weakness.”

“Water?!?”

“Yeah, water. We can beat her with water.”

“Get her wet?”

“Not exactly.”

As Punchline was speaking, Golem tossed Mr. Whiskers off her back. But the instance that she did, Dusk formed a mace from his shadow and struck Golem, the spiked-ball knocking her to the side. Quickly, Golem got back on her feet and charged at Dusk before she was knocked to the ground by another one of Deathtone’s sonic blasts.

“My cherry bombs didn’t hurt her, but I heard her coughing from all that smoke. She’s strong and tough, but she has to breathe like you and me.”

“What does that have to do with water?”

“I’m getting to that part. Her body is really dense. When I threw her over my shoulder, I almost got smooched. She’s no bigger than me, but she weighs about 350 lb by my calculations.”

“And that means?!?”

“She can’t float. Anything denser than a human being will sink in water and because she has to breathe...”

“She can drown.” Underneath her mouth, Rita smirked, opening a portal underneath Golem’s feet. The stone-skinned girl yelped in surprise as she fell halfway through the portal. All that was holding her up was the ground clawed between her fingers that were creeping toward the edge of the portal leaving behind four tracks gouged into the dirt on her left and right side.

“Knock her in,” Gatekeeper ordered Dusk.

Dusk’s shadow melded into a mallet-shape and conked Golem on the head. She plummeted through the portal. Drops of water came through the other side of the portal and leaving an imprint where the portal was by moistening the parched earth around it.

“Rita,” said an exhausted Dusk, “I thought you said no teleporting bad guys until we beat them up.”

“Yeah,” Dawn in concurrence, “you said they could hurt people if you teleported them somewhere else, even if it was to jail, unless we neuallize...”

“Neutralize,” Dusk corrected his brother.

“Yeah, unless we neutralize them.”

“Don’t worry. I’m bringing her back before she can.” The other Metadeliquents felt their hearts miss a beat all at the same time when Rita said that.

“Great! Now she’s going to kill us.”

Gatekeeper opened her portal again. A foamy white gusher rushed out of it carrying Golem in its wake; the granite-faced girl, who was on her hands and knees, expelled water from her lungs and gasped for air. She was trembling, but not from the cold water, but moral terror from drowning.

“A little water won’t beat me,” Golem stuttered as she tried to sound brave. But her fear was too pronounced for her to conceal.

“Then how about we try a lake instead of a swimming pool this time?” Rita threatened. Golem stood up and staggered as she backed away. She held her chest was hyperventilating. “Well, are you going to give up or not?”

Golem’s head drooped underneath her drenched body. “You win.”

(continues to the next post)

CrossoverManiac

06-01-2006, 07:18 PM

(continued from the last post)

Rita folded her hands and tapping her index finger against her arm. “Now, tell me why the heck were you trashing everything from Europe to America?”

Golem turned her back on Rita. “Why should I tell you,” she huffed.

Rita circled trying to look Golem in the face. “Why won’t you tell us?”

Golem glared over her shoulder and avoided eye contact with Rita. “I told you already: I was fighting the Alchemist.”

“And who’s he? We never heard of the Alchemist. We don’t even know who you are.”

Golem was seething. She was a caged bull storing up its fury until it could be unleashed. “Well, I’m called Golem. And the Alchemist...”

“Did you say...you’re...Golem?!?” Rita stared mesmerized.

“Yeah, and the Alchemist...”

“You’re on the list!” The other Metadeliquents were in an uproar over Gatekeeper’s revelation.

“You’re kidding!” Dusk protested. “She tried to kill us!”

“What list?” Golem asked.

“I’m not kidding. She’s a Metadeliquent like the rest of us.”

“No she isn’t.” Calvin stomped

“What list?”

“The list Mr. Impossible made of the Metadeliquents,” Kevin said gleefully. “Rita has it.”

Calvin palmed Kevin on the side of the head. “No real name, stupid.”

“What makes you think I’m joining you?”

“Hey maybe you can get dirt on her like you did me,” Deathtone scoffed.

Rita was about to think up a comeback to Deathtone’s sarcastic remark but her attention was quickly diverted to the hum of a jet engine above their heads. No, make those three engines, each on the end of metal framework extended outward at an angle from dome-shaped bottom one hundred-fifty feet across. The air was becoming hot and dry and smelled of burnt fuel; the flying machine was coming on for a landing in the same spot the Metadeliquents resided.

The humongous flying machine was gently lowered to the surface by the three jet engines crafted to like fire-breathing dragons breathing fire out of their mounts at the end of the steel-framed booms. The intense inferno scorched the already bone-dry earth turning it from a sandy orange to smut black. The children put as much distance between themselves and the intense heat, except for Golem. In the final seconds of its descent, four panels on opposite sides of the dome swept open. The landing pad for the machine crept out of their resting position. The landing pads creaked under the weight of the flying machine.

“Golem,” Rita yelled, “get away from that thing.”

Instead Golem bent her knees and leaped forward, her powerful leg muscles catapulted at the flying machine, but as Golem’s ballistic body closed the distance, the dome launched out a flaming dart. The missile fired at Golem appeared as a blur in the fraction of a second it took to strike its target. Golem tumbled back to Earth, sent reeling by the midair explosion; the world seemed to be spinning around Golem, from her point of view. Having been slapped out of the sky, bounced, Golem promptly struck the ground and endured a series of rolls that brought her to Rita’s feet.

Whatever the Gatekeeper had said, Golem hadn’t heard as she got a running head-start and charged at the flying machine in the same manner that she charged at Deathtone; her legs moved so fast they appeared as blurs. Another pounce garnered another failure as a missile collided with her head-on. The impact sent her flying back at the other Metadeliquents who had to duck their heads to keep from being clipped by Golem.

Gatekeeper ran to the side of the stone-faced girl to keep her from making another foolhardy gesture against the flying machine. “Hey Gategirl,” said Golem, spitting out mud and gravel, “how about some help?”

“Calm down!” Rita pleaded, stepping in front of Golem and putting her hands out even though. In the back of her mind, Rita was thinking that she couldn’t stop her if she really wanted to pass.

“Ain’t you Metadeliquents?” Golem growled.

“We are.”

“Then help me.”

Gatekeeper could feel Golem’s breath on her face. She was almost nose-to-nose with Rita.

“Don’t bother reasoning with her.”

The girls put their little spat on pause and directed their attention to the voice coming from the flying machine where, on its surface, a hatch was sliding open. There, a man stood with a microphone in his head, garbed in a light-blue woolen cloak with the neck region bound by a white lace. His features were cloaked in the shadow of the cowl pulled over his head. “My daughter’s always has to do things the hard way.”

“Is that your dad?” Gatekeeper asked.

“No!” Golem yelled. “That’s the Alchemist.”

“And I’m the one that created you,” the Alchemist addressed his prodigal daughter, “which makes me your father. Never forget it.”

Rita thoughts drifted to her father; she loved him, and he loved her, She did get mad at him every once in a while; not letting her watch a movie here, a grounding there, but she never hated him. Golem, well, it didn’t take a telepath to take notice of the venomous spite that dripped from each of her words; the eyes that glared with her contempt. “If he’s your father, then why do you hate him so much?” The nerve of this girl, Rita thought, to hate her father while she has no father to call her own. “Some of us don’t have a father, Golem.”

“If he was your father, you’d hate him too.”

“You should listen to your little friends and learn to appreciate me.”

“Settle your family squabbles on your own time, Alchemist. This is business.”

That voice; she could never forget that voice. The voice which belonged to two different people: the man that killed her father, Justin, and his twin brother, the man that tried to kill her, Jeremy, who had joined forces with the Alchemist.

“Long time, no see Gatekeeper.”

“You’re suppose to be in jail!”

“Little girl, there’s no any such thing as ‘suppose to be’. It’s too bad you won’t live long enough to figure that out.”

“You couldn’t kill me before, what makes you think you can kill me now?”

“Let’s just say, the Alchemist brought along some people who hate you as much as I do.”

As Jeremy gestured to his side, the hatch slid back like a curtain introducing new actors to the stage. The next player to be reintroduced was a glittering man-sized gem.

“You didn’t think you could dispense with Felipe so easily did you, Gatekeeper?” Diamond Joe’s smile was literally blinding in its intensity.

“How’s my favorite clown and bunny,” the Tamer mocked. His favorite clown was trying to calm down his favorite bunny by holding him back and stroking his ear and to keep the mutant rabbit from hopping inside the machine and shredding him into tiny chucks of meat with those six-inch long claws.

The hatch continued to be peeled back uncovering the horrifying visage of a werewolf. “You’ll all pay for disgracing me.” Geegornoff N’Shash growled like an angry dog, bearing her set of pointed ivory teeth before backing up into the shadows.

The next to come from behind the metallic curtain was she herself clad in a suit of red armor. “I’m going your shut that big mouth of yours.” Red Harpy unfurled her wings.

“I’d like to see you try,” Deathtone said defiantly.

D.K. stepped from behind Red Harpy’s wings. “But this time, we’re backing her up.” The undead corpse actually looked better from their last encounter. Not only was his body whole again, but some of the decomposition has been reversed; his face was intact and the breach of flesh on his chest has receded. Other than and the pale grey skin and bald head, he looked almost human.

The Alchemist undid the lace holding up his quasi-mystical cloak and tossed it behind him. The eerie, bewitching atmosphere instantly shifted across the white lab tunic and pants that the Alchemist wore under his cloak. The pure white of his suit was broken only by a pair of black boots and gloves, metallic gauntlets, and what looked like a small shield pinned to his shirt. Without the cloak’s shadow, his prominent chin, wrinkled brown, and hooked-nosed could be seen. A ring of gray hair encircled the bald spot at the very top of his head. The Alchemist’s pair of heavy-set eyes squinted as they scanned the battlefield.

“Metadeliquents,” the Alchemist formally addressed, “I’d like to introduce you to the Despots. You’ve met each of them, though only one at a time. But I’ve brought them together to settle old schools.

“Please,” Deathtone waved his hands dismissively at them and looked away at people he considered to be losers. “We kicked their butts before, and we’ll do it again.”

“And how exactly will you manage that?” The Alchemist rebutted. “You Metadeliquents could barely hold your own against even one member of my Despots. What makes you think you can take them all at once?”

“Well...um...” Deathtone glanced over his shoulders for the other Metadeliquents to give him answer. “We’re good guys.” Sighing in unison, Dusk and Rita both nodded their head and held their forehead in the palm of their hand.

“Then, let’s see if right makes might, child!”

Immediately, a beam of incandescent blue light six feet across struck the ground in front of the Metadeliquents. The laser superheated the ground creating a blast that picked all of the Metadeliquents off their feet and flying outward from the center of the beam.

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DEATH FROM ABOVE! Rita and her gang of superheroes must dodge death rays from outer space and defeat the deadly Coven before putting the Alchemist behind bars. But even they manage to survive both the rays and the villains; this evil mastermind has an ace in the hole that can spell doom for our young heroes. Read the next exciting installment of Metadeliquents. And thanks to Chocolove for his support, critiquing of my work, and proofreading this issue. This one is dedicated to you.

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:48 PM

Metadeliquents 15: The Big Showdown: Just when they win the battle, they lose the war
Metadeliquents is the property of Timothy Weaver

Radiant neon strands danced beneath Rita’s eyelids. One second, the Despots were talking trash and doing it poorly, in her humble opinion, and then the next moment, a laser beam descended from the sky. Even closed, the blue lines were still there. It was like those times when the lights in the classroom were cut off to watch an educational movie; once the movie was over and the lights were switched back on, the sudden increase in brightness blinded her for a second before her eyes adjusted. It was no different here. The laser beam was bright enough to overload her vision and the after image was burned into her retina for the time being. Rita could feel a granular surface pressed against her back, so she must be lying on the ground. Though she couldn’t see, Rita could sense someone stooped over her body. The unknown presence supported her shoulders under his arms and getting back on her feet.

“Are you okay?” Rita couldn’t forget that voice considering that Seth Burrell was always shooting off his mouth, literally. The imprint from the laser grew faint enough to make out Deathtone’s mask, which left enough of his features exposed for Rita to read the feelings of dread Seth had. It was almost as if he cared.

“I’m okay, Deathtone.”

“Teleport us out of here,” he implored. So much for Seth’s true feelings, Rita thought. She opened a portal to the side of each of the Metas. As they piled through, another laser beam was fired far above them and even above the clouds.

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“They’re gone, Mary,” the camera man relayed what he saw through the telescopic lens of his video equipment to reporter Mary Nodell.

“What about that laser? Did you see who was shooting?” Mary bit her lips and tapped her left foot in anticipation of the Pulitzer Award that this news story would give her. One moment, she and her camera crew were tracking down the little rock girl as she dotted from one hidden military installation after another on her rampage across two continents, the next the rock girl and the Metadeliquents was being fired upon from a death ray that seemed to come right out of the heavens, which was unfortunate because that could have been the largest super-powered battle since the days of Mr. Impossible.

“Dammit! Why did they have to hightail it out there, just when it was getting good,” the camera man complained.

“That what happens when your superheroes are a bunch of little kids: they go run to mommy at the first sign of trouble.”

“Easy for you say,” a gruff voice mumbled scornful of Mary’s armchair quarterbacking. Officer Hannity leaned against the van pressing his back against its warm metal surface. Nodell turned her AC up too high for Hannity, who was raised in the arid climate of Arizona, and now he was warming up by letting the heat collected by the van’s exterior invade his frigid body. “That laser wasn’t aimed at you.”

“You always have to defend those children don’t you, Alan?” Nodell teased. She twirled her microphone around by its cord. “But what’s your excuse for them being so chummy with Golem.” The reported huffed at Hannity’s dumbfounded look. “Rock girl. The one that tore up half of Europe; the one I was following since she landed in Virginia. That’s what the survivors of her little rampage called her.”

“I don’t know what your definition of ‘chummy’ is, but that dog fight doesn’t fit mine.” Hannity fished in his pockets and pulled out an already smoked cigar from his coat pocket and relit it.

“Then how come she ran off with the others?”

“They were trying to save her life. Superheroes do that sometimes, even for supervillains.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m thinking of editing out the fight.”

Hannity straightened up and waved his hand at Nodell with his cigar between his fingers. “That’s low even for you Mary. Why the hell do you want to smear their reputation?” Hannity got in front of Mary; their faces only inches from each other. “Still mad at those kids for exposing that backroom deal you made with the Tamer; the one that lost you that big anchor deal with the networks.”

Mary turned her head away and fanned away the remaining smoke and cigar breath that puffed out of Hannity’s mouth. “Oh please, Alan,” she chuckled, “you know I don’t hold grudges. Besides, I’m the closest thing those kids have to a press agent. I’ll be doing them a favor.”

Hannity was amused by Nodell’s wild claim. “You got quite a sense of humor there.”

Mary replied with a voice of self-assurance. “Maybe back in your day the public was all gung ho for goody two shoes, flying boy scouts, but those sorts of heroes are a joke these days. Now it’s about the bad boys; it’s guys with a dark side; with an edge.” Hannity rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. Why you’d think the villains are more interesting and more popular than the good guys they fight?”

“The press puts those nobodies on a pedestal?”

“No because boy scouts set an example; an example the public doesn’t want to live up to. And that’s the last thing these kids need if they want keep their poll numbers up. So, by slinging a little mud, I’m helping their rep.”

“Well not all of us are into that bad boy image.”

“No, but that crowd’s a dying breed. And in speaking of dying,” Nodell plucked the cigar from between Hannity’s fingers, dropped it, and put it out with her foot, “that’s what going to happen to you if you don’t kick that nasty little habit of yours.”

Hannity didn’t seem to notice Nodell’s taunt. Rather, the smothering cigar on the ground engrossed his thoughts. His attention drifted in the haze of dingy smoke floating away in a summer breeze. Sullen eyes loss themselves in self-pity and regret. “I wished you have told me years ago,” Hannity whispered.

“What was that, Alan?”

“Nothing,” the policeman said dismissively.

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Seven portals open in the midst of two tents, one red camping tent just large enough for a young boy to lay in and the other one was just a blue canvas tied by ropes to a tree at each of its four corners but large enough for a family of ten to sleep under with room to spare, and one makeshift tool shed. One of the portals, as it unfurled, knocked over a plywood board laying on top of a 55-gallon drum. From each of the portal, a member of the Metadeliquents, Gatekeeper, Deathtone, Punchline, Mr. Whiskers, Dawn, Dusk, and Golem, fled from what seemed like the wrath of heaven. Another flash of incandescent destruction shined before fading behind the closing portals.

“Hey Kevin,” Deathtone loomed over Dawn who was stooped over and trying catch his breath. “What was that?”

“What was ‘what’?” A confused Dawn asked.

“That laser that came out of nowhere!” Gatekeeper reiterated.

Dawn pointed at himself and frantically replied, “Why are you asking me for?”

“You’re the laser guy. Tell us,” Deathtone insisted.

“It’s an orbital laser,” Golem spoke up. “The Alchemist has twenty of them circling the planet. He launched them up into space to shoot down planes and sink ships.”

“Great!” Seth raised his hands in the air making his frustration known to the others. “How we’re supposed to fight that?” Deathtone glared at Rita. “Well?”

Rita didn’t answer. The mood was as gloomy as the gray cloud-covered sky above them.

“Well, at they can’t follow us,” said Punchline trying to pick up everyone’s spirits. “As I said before; teleportation folds space-time using a Kerr-Newman wormhole and bypassing travel through normal four-dimensional space-time making it impossible to follow.” And that might have done the trick, if not for another laser cutting through the thicket of trees. The beam ignited branches and leaves in its path into an instant blaze of yellow flames that danced as they fell and collected on the ground. Gorging themselves on the dried up blades of dead grass, the blotches of fire merged into one giant, bulbous flame that devoured everything inside of it. The tents that were Punchline and Mr. Whisker’s only home received the touch of death from the ever-expanding inferno and melted away in seconds.

“Our house!” Punchline protested. “That Alchemist vaporized our home!” Punchline hastily went through his coat pockets. “No that won’t do.” A portal appeared next to him, but Punchline, who was still looking for something in his coat to save his ‘home’, paid it no mind.

“Punchline, we got to get out of here,” Rita pleaded. The others were evacuating Punchline’s campsite through the portals. The ground shuddered under the impact of another shot from the orbital death ray. But Punchline still remained undeterred in his efforts to save his home. Rita ran into the portal without him.

“Oh why do I have only stuff that causes fires?”

Rita reached through the portal and took Punchline by the wrist. “Punchline. Portal. NOW!” She towed Punchline to the other side of the portal.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:50 PM

(continued from the last post)

The control room was bathed in a crimson radiance by the tinted fluorescent bulbs which were broken only by the illumination of computer monitors and the buttons on the consoles that were lit up like glow worms. The lights from the monitors danced on the faces of the personnel adorned in military-style tunic and khakis and crown in bulky old-style headsets and microphone. All of the cogs worked in accord in keeping with the characteristic of a precision watch. The machine was disrupted by the slamming of the heavy steel door against the wall of the control room. The hallway lights beaming around the Alchemist cleaved the crimson rays that bathed the control room and divided it in half. The light stopped at three figures, one of an elderly man in a suit, the others, however, didn’t appear to be remotely human. One was seated in one of the leather cushioned swivel chairs and was covered in brown fur and long ears. The other one was slightly more human but was horribly misshapen; her head was a lumpy potato, her back had three humps, and one arm was longer than the other.

“I demand to know what’s going on here! Who said you could fire on the Metadeliquents with the orbital weapons platform?” The Alchemist bellowed.

D.K. peered into the control room from the hallway. “Whoa! That ray beam was from orbit?” The Despots piled into the control room and waited in the back.

The Alchemist marched towards N’Shash and Jeremy when the creature that was standing next to her stepped in front of the Alchemist. The deformed woman rippled when she moved. It was Slug, the disfigured woman that freed Diamond Joe.

“Sir,” Slug groveled, “I tried to stop N’Shash, but she wouldn’t listen.” Neither did the Alchemist. His hand sunk into Slug’s malleable skull collapsing her nose and upper jaw till the palm of his hand rested in her mouth and pushed her to the floor causing Diamond Joe to pitilessly chuckle at her. The Alchemist then unceremoniously wheeled N’Shash’s chair from the console and spun her chair around. Meanwhile, Slug lay on the floor rubbing her sunken face.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” With each word, the Alchemist blew back N’Shash’s facial hair. The Alchemist curled his lip; his peg teeth were partially uncovered. The Alchemist turned his attention to Jeremy. “Well?”

N’Shash slunk back into her chain. “We did as you ask,” N’Shash huffed.

“I didn’t say hack into my orbital weapons systems!”

N’Shash folded her hand together over her bosom. “You recruited me for my military expertise, and as your military advisor, I strongly recommend utilizing your primary strategic advantage over the Metadeliquents. You have air superiority; use it. Then send ground forces to finish off what’s left.”

“And with my portal detector installed into the tracking system,” Agent Jeremy stroked the box wired to the console, “there’s no place for them to hide.”

“If males had any sense of strategy,” N’Shash scolded, “you’d understand that.”

“Is that so?” The Alchemist sneered. “If you’re such a tactical genius, you’d know the importance OF KEEPING A SECRET WEAPON A SECRET. You think I rescued you from the Metadeliquents so you can expose my orbital weapons system to the world and place all my efforts in jeopardy? I...” The Alchemist was silenced by the beeping in his coat pocket. “We’ll discuss this later.” He took out his cellphone and answered, “Hello...yes, N’Shash and Agent Jeremy hacked into our system and rewired our targeting system and I humbly apologize for not securing our...What?!?...Are you sure?...Yes, I’ll tell them.” The Alchemist placed his cellphone back into his pocket. “I’ve changed my mind. We’ll go with your plan for right now. You may continue with your attack unless told otherwise.”

“Who you’d talking to?” Red Harpy, who removed her helmet, looked perplexed. She brushed the sweat from her short, spiky red hair.

“None of your concern,” was all that the Alchemist would say. He then glanced at his watch.

“You’re running things, aren’t you?”

“Of course, I am.” But the Alchemist’s reply did not seem to sway Red Harpy.

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The latest assault from the orbital lasers rocked a warehouse that encompassed an area the size of a football field. Hunks of chalky white concrete and metal beams split apart from the ceiling above some construction workers in orange helmets and vests. The men froze in panic cringing at the sight of tons of concrete bearing down upon them. Suddenly, a series of laser blasts emanating from inside struck the concrete slaps and shattered them into a monsoon of pebbles which pattered as they fell harmlessly against the workers’ helmets. The men cautiously glanced up from the fetal position and caught sight of their hero in blue spandex with a yellow half-circle and stripes beaming out from the half-circle embellished on his chest and a baseball cap turned backwards.

“Get outta here!” Dawn plead with the men he just rescued. There was no argument from them. The workers hastily navigated through the field of broken glass, concrete fragments, and twisted steel beams. Behind Dawn, Dusk and Deathtone struggled to maintain their footing from another series of laser strikes that rocked the hangar. Gatekeeper leaned against the side of the building; her back turned from the rest of her crew.

“I thought you said if we teleported inside a building, they couldn’t see us from space,” Dusk nagged. Rita didn’t respond but kept looking away from the others and mumbling to herself.

“Punchline was the one that said they couldn’t track us,” Deathtone added. The roof was quickly being eaten away with each laser blast. Another series of blasts cut a line halfway across the width of the building. “Punchline, I thought you said it was impossible for them to follow us if we teleport.”

“They shouldn’t!” Punchline yelled back. He was crouched underneath a concrete slap suspended in the air by Golem’s immeasurable strength. Mr. Whiskers was close by curled up in a ball hiding his eyes behind his saber-clawed paws.

“Gatekeeper, how about porting us out of here?” Deathtone shook Rita’s shoulder. “Rita!”

“They shouldn’t be able to follow us. They shouldn’t be able to follow us. They shouldn’t be able to follow us.” Rita repeated, each time sounding more and more distance. It was her security blanket; her way out if the situation went bad. With her power to teleport, there was always a safe place to flee to, even though she never, till today, retreated from a battle. Rita was still withdrawn from the other even as Deathtone and Dusk batted her around. How could they find them wherever they ran away from? No one ever follow her though her portal except for Jeremy. Then she remembered. Jeremy was with the Despots. Jeremy and his brother had the teleporter before it fused to Rita’s body. And Jeremy was the one with the portal detector.

Rita turned to face Dusk and Deathtone and grabbed them by the arms to stop them from shaking her around. “Metadeliquents! We’re getting out of here! But only through one portal.” As she spoke, portals opened throughout the hangar, and each one lead to a different place. One opened to a desert. Another opened in the middle of the woods. A third led to a beach. Rita pointed to the one next to Golem, Punchline, and Mr. Whiskers. On the other side was a junkyard; a maze of the stack-up corpses of cars and trucks. The Metadeliquents dashed to the portal before it shrunk to a point as the hangar finally collapsed from the brutal beating it received from the laser barrage.

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“This isn’t right.” N’Shash, who was manning the orbital lasers, began to fiddle around to the controls. Her computer monitor was distorted with each adjustment until it appeared as it did before with a map of the planet on it.

“Is there a problem N’Shash?” The Alchemist asked as he loomed over her.

“I’m detecting seven portals; all of them exiting in different parts of the planet.” On the computer monitor, seven points appeared on the map.

“They’re splitting up,” Jeremy sneered. “Won’t do them no good.”

Other points appeared on the computer monitor. “Now there’s ten portals. No, make that fourteen; no, now there’s twenty portals.”

“Twenty portals for six children and a mutant rabbit,” the Alchemist chuckled, “looks like they figured out your little trick Jeremy.”

“Darn it!” Agent Jeremy growled. “Scan each of those portal exits. They have to be at one of them.”

“There’s a new portal opening.”

“Where?”

“Right here. They’ve double back.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:53 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Everyone outside, now!” The Alchemist ordered. The Despots piled out of the control room and made their way down the hall to the freight elevator.

Under the bottom of the war machine, Punchline suspended himself to the hull of the ship with suction cups on his hands and knees. The freight elevator lowered itself in front of Punchline who crawled to the opening. “Punchline-man; Punchline-man. Does everything a Punchline can.” Punchline hummed to himself as he climbed into the elevator shaft.

The Despots cleared the freight elevator and were on the lookout for the Metadeliquents. Red Harpy took to the sky and circled around the war machine. The others looked in all directions along the flat terrain. Then, the freight elevator rose back up to the ship.

“They’re on the ship.” The Alchemist pulled out his phone and called the control room. “Lower the freight elevator immediately.” In seconds, the freight elevator started its descent. But before it made it to the ground, the cellphone transmitted the screams of the control room personnel. “They’re at the control room. Hurry, before they do any damage.” The Despots headed to the waiting freight elevator when they stopped in their tracks.

“What’s the hold up?” N’Shash asked. D.K. pointed to the freight elevator floor. On it was what appeared to be a bobblehead of Punchline waving.

“You guys aren’t afraid of a child’s toy,” Diamond Joe scoffed.

“Then you go first.” The Tamer said. Diamond Joe puckered his lips at Tamer’s jab and looked away.

“D.K., you go.” N’Shash slapped the zombie on the shoulder.

“Just because I dead, don’t mean I want to die,” D.K. objected.

Red Harpy shoved the other Despots to the side. “Get out of my way. I’m not afraid of a little toy.” But as Red Harpy took a step on the freight elevator, the Punchline bobblehead belched and as it did, a stream of black smoke sprayed out of its mouth. The cloud, which engulfed the Despots, thickened into a smutty cotton ball. The cloud floated just above their knees making the lower half of their legs the only visible part of their bodies. A chorus of coughs and hacking played inside the cloud.

“I can’t see,” Tamer said hacking his lungs out.

“Get off me!” Diamond Joe yelled.

N’Shash’s hairy form landed with a thud. “Don’t you dare...*cough*...shove me, human!”

“Like you could...*cough*...could do...*cough*...anything about it.”

“Red Harpy,” said a congested Jeremy, “switch on your jet engine and clear this smoke out.” The smoke was drawn through the intake in Red Harpy’s engine and was cleared away in seconds. Jeremy kicked the bobblehead out of the way to insure there weren’t anymore surprises. The Despots rode the freight elevator back into the flying fortress, but as the elevator doors slid open, they were greeted by another Punchline bobblehead. But this one turned around and clicked like the gears of a clock as it turned until its back was facing them. The Despots fell back into the elevator.

N’Shash pressed the down button repeatedly trying to get out of the way of whatever surprise Punchline’s toy had for them. “Down! Down!” She panicked. But it was too late. The Punchline bobblehead bent over and released another smoke bomb from its rear end while farting.

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In the red-soaked haze of the control room, Punchline tapped on an unintended keyboard. An unconscious man lay alongside his feet. Punchline ceased typing on the computer and stuck his finger out. He waved it around and then hit the ‘return’ key. “All done.”

The hatch behind Punchline rattled. “Uh oh,” Punchline said. The Despots got passed his little presents and were at the door.

On the other side of the hatch, the Alchemist typed some numbers into a panel on the wall beside him and wrangled with the latch. “Damn it,” he cursed.

N’Shash snorted some air into her nostrils. “It smells like he welded himself in.”

“Stand back,” Diamond Joe said as he brought up his foot. The hatch flung open; the center of the hatch dinted in. The Despots rushed through the doorway to see Punchline leaning out of the emergency escape hatch; the view of the violent evening sky peered though.

Punchline spurred a grappling hook into a support beam. “Bye, bye,” he waved and fell backwards while clutching a rope in his hands. The rope hissed from fiction between it and Punchline’s gloves as he propelled down.

“Check the equipment for tampering,” ordered the Alchemist. N’Shash took her place at the orbital laser controls and typed in a command. Suddenly, Punchline’s face with two crossbones beneath his chin came up on the screen. The image cackled in an electronic voice. Then, the skull and crossbows appeared on the other computer monitors also cackling. Then the monitors blew out in a blue flash of lightening at one time.

“My portal detector!” Jeremy scooped the remains of the portal detector in his palms. It too was destroyed in the power surge. “It was the only one in the world! And now it’s gone.” Jeremy stared over his shoulder at the Alchemist who just put away his phone and took out a notepad and pen. “Well?”

“Well what?” The Alchemist checked his watch and jotted down the top in his notepad and not once acknowledging Jeremy’s presence.

“Don’t you have another way to controlling the orbital laser platforms?”

“There are no orbital laser platforms, not anymore. That computer virus infected them as well. In fact, what’s left of my orbital laser platforms are falling out of orbit and burning up in the atmosphere as we speak.” He flipped out his cellphone and showed them a streak in the night sky. “That’s all that left of my laser satellites.” The Alchemist looked out of the emergency hatch and pointed down. “They’re here. I’m afraid you’re not getting out of this fight.”

Red Harpy clinched her fist. “About time we started kicking ass.” The floor clanged with the tapping of her metal-garnished feet.

“D.K.,” said N’Shash, “take out the Metadeliquent with the sonic range attack. Red Harpy, you take out the teleporter.”

“No way, Rover!” Red Harpy shouted. “The loud-mouth is mine.” She darted through the rest of the Despots and leaped out of the ship.

“Wait!” N’Shash reached out of the hatch as if to grab hold of Red Harpy, but it was too late. Her jetpack fired up and accelerated her to attack speed.

“D.K.!” N’Shash said with the strict demeanor of a drill sergeant in an attempt to gain back control of this group. “Head underground and...”

“Who said I’m taking orders from you. I only want the ones that destroyed my original body.” And he too dove out the hatch. He then submerged underground.

“Not if they’re same ones that threw Felipe in prison.” N’Shash was almost trampled over when Diamond Joe decided to join in the fight. She was on the ground again thanks to that diamond-plated human. If he wasn’t so strong, she’d tear...no, not now. N’Shash redirected her attention to the mission. Unfortunately, all of her soldiers have bailed on her. Tamer and Jeremy vacated the control room when Jeremy paused.

“Forget the strategy, N’Shash,” Tamer advised. “Let’s just get down there and fight.” N’Shash replied with a growl before trailing behind the others.

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Red Harpy circled the mobile fortress until she found her target. “Hey Big-Mouth, I’m coming from you,” her voice boomed through the loudspeakers in her suit.

“Oh yeah,” said Deathtone, “take this Bird Girl.” Red Harpy was struck by a sonic blast, but as before, she rode the blast like an air current.

“Your comebacks suck as bad your powers,” Red Harpy taunted.

“Yeah, come down here and say to my face.”

“Gladly,” Seth turned to see Diamond Joe revving his fist back. Before he had time to even flitch, the diamond-studded villain’s fist rocketed in the direction of his face. With Diamond Joe’s near limitless strength, one would expect the impact would reduce Deathtone’s head to a fine red mist. But this was not the case. Instead, the vessel of this incredible power froze in its path; inches from making contact with Deathtone’s skull. A tiny stone arm bracketed the immeasurable force unleashed from his jeweled fist. Golem clinched Diamond Joe by the wrist. Deathtone, not being a fool, back a safe distance away from the coming metahuman brawl.

Diamond Joe wrenched back his arm but Golem grabbed his wrist with the other hand and held it firmly in place. Diamond Joe nodded his head down and smirked at his shorter opponent. “Little Golem,” the insincere greeting rumbled out of Diamond Joe’s throat. “My you’ve grown since I last saw you; an inch taller and twice as ugly.” The cybernetically enhanced muscles in his brawny arms tensed under the strain of liberating himself from Golem’s grip, but he was unable to pull away. He then caught Golem’s wrist and flexed both his forearms. The combined strength of both his biceps began to make leeway. Golem’s feet slid across the ground.

Golem glared back and gradually pulled Diamond Joe towards her. She too flexed her arms but she drew Diamond Joe towards her more than Diamond Joe pulled her along. “You haven’t seen ugly until you look in a mirror after I’m done beating that sparkly face of yours in.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:54 PM

(continued from the last post)

Diamond Joe gritted his ivory teeth. He put his full weight into the tug-of-war. All the muscles in his back bulked up at once. “Is that so?” His voice strained under physical exertion that he never felt since becoming a super-powered criminal. Despite that, Diamond Joe smiled vainly as Golem leaned forward against the full blunt of Diamond Joe’s might, but Golem countered by taking a step with her left foot and using it as leverage. She put her back into it and gained the upper hand in this seesaw battle. The ground fractured and compressed underneath the sheer power from Golem and Diamond Joe’s coalescing power.

“How you like getting your butt kicked by a girl, Diamond Joe?” That insult earned Golem a headbutt.

“MY NAME IS FELIPE!” Diamond Joe raved before kicking Golem in the chest with his expense Bruno Magli leather dress shoes. Golem helplessly careened through the air during cartwheels in mid-air till she came to a stop courtesy of the one of the three booms extending from the flying fortress. The metal frame twisted and curled up on impact before it and Golem fell to earth. Diamond Joe snatched up a boulder off the ground and stampeded the fallen Golem. “DIE YOU STONE-FACED FREAK!” The bounder hammered into Golem and split in half. Jovial laughter echoed along the underbelly of the flying fortress. Diamond Joe leaned his head back and laughed in satisfaction. He laughed so hard he had to lean against one of the shattered half of the boulder. Then, a second voice that came from beneath his feet joined in and was laughing along with him. The jubilation that Diamond Joe was enraptured in faded out. Diamond Joe’s half-hearted chuckle matched his downhearted frown and became even more downhearted until they became moans. But the second set of laughter continued undaunted as Golem stood upright and unharmed.

“Is that all you got, Joe?” Golem said.

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Red Harpy made another pass at Seth who managed to side-step the razor-sharp wings that swooped by. Seth’s spiky hair was rustled by the gust of wind trailing Red Harpy. Seth dodged another pass by Red Harpy and fired a sonic blast that was way off target, but still was enough to create waves of turbulence that shuttered Red Harpy’s wings. Deathtone wanted desperately to have a half-second to draw a bead on her and use his sonic attack to shoot her down. But he was barely able to keep from being sliced in half. Red Harpy, however, couldn’t get a decent dive-bomb; not with Deathtone firing off random sonic blasts at her. Both were in a stalemate, but their plight did not go unnoticed.

“Dawn!” Rita yelled out to Kevin. “Get Red Harpy off of Deathtone!”

Dawn shook his head. “What if I hit her like N’Shash?”

“Just blind her then.”

“I’m still afraid of hurting her.”

“Useless,” she said under her breath. Dawn, since he vaporized N’Shash’s hand, has been afraid of using his powers. He hasn’t shot his palm lasers at anything, even at low power, since that night. Rita dreaded what would have happened if N’Shash was human and couldn’t grow back a new one. Rita sighed at another useless Metadeliquent. Mr. Whiskers was going in circles sniffing the ground. That stupid rabbit could be helping Golem with her fight against Diamond Joe. Mr. Whiskers shuffled towards Rita. “Punchline, tell Mr. Whiskers to...” But before she had a chance to bark out her demands, the ground exploded next to her and a pair of cold, clammy hands picked her up by the neck.

“Now, I’m going to show you what it feels like to have your limbed ripped off.” Rita gasped for air, but D.K.’s grip on her windpipe cut off her breathing. “How you’d like that, little girl?” But Rita wouldn’t find out, not today. Mr. Whiskers snapped D.K. into his jaws and punctured his chest with his dagger-like teeth. D.K. waved his free hand around and cried, “Get it off me!” His pleas were answered. Mr. Whiskers eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the zombie, all covered in drool, rolled out of his mouth.

Not far from Gatekeeper, D.K., and Mr. Whiskers, Tamer extended his arm and evoked his animal control power. “You’re mine again, rabbit.”

D.K. once again clutched Rita by the arms. “Now where were we? Oh yeah.” D.K. tightened his grip. Rita shrieked in pain. “I’m going tear off your arms and legs.”

“Hey! HEY!” Kevin called out to D.K.

“Now what!” D.K. whipped Gatekeeper to the side and turned to Dawn.

“Aren’t you D.K.?”

“What of it?”

“You’re the zombie guy that don’t need a body to live, right?”

“Yeah, so wha...” D.K. said before he stopped himself when he realized why he was asked that. “Uh oh.” he blurted out. Then, suddenly, his head fell off when a beam of light burned though his decomposing flesh. Then the beam widened. A second laser beam ran adjacent to the first, and together, they ignited D.K.’s body incinerating his rotting flesh. “NOT AGAIN! NOT MY BODY!” All that was left of D.K., other than his head, was a circle of ash and a few specks of still burning cinders.

“I got the zombie! I got the zombie!” Kevin sung and danced around.

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“Leave Mr. Whiskers alone,” Punchline cried.

Mr. Whiskers gritted his fangs and squinted in a struggle to resist this urge to follow a new master. But the power of Tamer’s cybernetic implants overpowered Mr. Whiskers, whose once feral, predatory glare faded into a hazy, subdued gaze. Tamer pointed out the boy clown and called out to his new pet, “Now kill Punchline!”

Mr. Whiskers vaulted through the air with a stride that would put even a NBA player to shame. The elongated shadow of the three ton hare overshadowed Punchline until he almost vanished in its murky wake. Mr. Whiskers’ humongous bulk made a heavy thud upon landing and would have crushed Punchline underfoot had he not sprung out of the way of the descending beast in the last fraction of a second. Mr. Whiskers stood upright, reach up with his paw, and took a swipe at Punchline with his nine-inch long claws. Punchline’s thick, bulletproof trench coat provided him with some protection, but the claws still left three long, jagged gashes along his coat.

“What’s a matter Punchline? I thought Mr. Whiskers was your friend,” Tamer scoffed. Tamer’s attention was diverted from the fight by a sudden flash of light and the sound of an electric arc sparking behind him. Tamer turned around and then experienced a sharp pain in his groin. Tamer grimaced his face and fell to his knees riving in agony. A portal laid open before Tamer with the lower half of Gatekeeper’s body visible from the other side. Then a second portal opened above his head. Gatekeeper dropped a rock over Tamer’s head compressing his skull, and in the fraction of a second, Tamer lost consciousness. Mr. Whiskers stumbled around as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.

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“Almost got him that time,” Red Harpy murmured to herself. She just finished her last pass at Deathtone and managed to get within inches of slicing him up with her wings. She then dodged another sonic attack, but this one didn’t feel as strong as the others. The loud-mouthed brat was softening up. Another pass or two, and he’ll be in as many pieces as zombie boy. Red Harpy made a half-loop and barrel rolled upright. The memory alloys that composed her wings flattened out in their razor wing mode. Even hardened carbon steel and concrete could be cleaved in half by those wings. But as Red Harpy closed in, Golem sailed across her path with her arms and legs extended outward. Then, Diamond Joe darted across in pursuit. Red Harpy panicked and angled her wings ascending to a higher altitude to avoid the slugfest between the two powerhouses. In that moment, when her attack was thrown off-balanced, Red Harpy was struck down by Deathtone’s sonic attack. But this time, Red Harpy wasn’t ready to flow with the forces produced by the sonic blast. The impact severed her right wing and ruptured her jet tank, which then caught on fire. She corkscrewed the air in loops, each one smaller than the other, and leaving a twisted smoke trail behind her. With each loop, she slowed down to a momentary pause and then gravity took its toll. Red Harpy descended back to earth.

“Dusk, I need a net,” Rita ordered Calvin. Calvin’s shadow wove itself into crisscrossing lines. Red Harpy and what was left of her flaming suit spiraled through a portal and into Dusk’s net. Dusk’s shadow covered Red Harpy’s back and smothered the flames.

“Good, now Deathtone, I want you to...” Gatekeeper didn’t get to finish her order. She was forced to the ground a thunderous bang followed by an invisible force that jarred her head to the side and wrenched her neck. The source of the bang was an obscenely large sniper rifle with a scope. The man handling the portable cannon was Agent Jeremy.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:56 PM

(continued from the last post)

Golem stepped in and threw some punches, none of them in reach of their target. Diamond Joe pranced just out of Golem’s arm reach; biding his time for an opening. Though stronger, Golem did not have the reach that Diamond Joe had.

“Quit running away, you chicken.” Golem, aggravated, strung too wide.

Diamond Joe reached behind and struck Golem in the temple. He then followed up a series of lefts and rights to the head. Each blow shattered the sound barrier and reverberated though the mining facility. Golem regained her footing and guarded her head from anymore blows and pressed on with her attack on Diamond Joe, who, once again, weaved just out of reach.

“What’s a matter, you malformed little girl? Can’t match skill with Felipe?” Diamond Joe smirked once again full of himself. Golem changed strategy and threw a cart full of slag, left over minerals from processing ore, to Diamond Joe. “Ha! Is that all you have to offer me?” Diamond Joe drove his fist into the cart. The explosive blow scattered the onyx-colored material. “How dare you get Felipe filthy!” Diamond Joe wiped the slag away from eyes. His oblique eyesight cleared and the first thing he saw was two tiny hands locked together and smashing into his skull. Golem jumped over Diamond Joe’s head while he was blinded and came back down with a double axe handle to the top of his head. The blow knocked Diamond Joe’s feet knee-deep into the rocky soil; his legs buckled and Diamond Joe got a face full of dry dirt. Golem plucked him out of the soil only to pile drive Diamond Joe back into the ground; his lantern chin dug into his ribcage when the back of his head hit the ground. The ground cracked into a spider-web pattern like shattered glass. Golem spun Diamond Joe around by the ankle and slingshot him out of the mining camp till he shrunk out of view; becoming as minuscule as the people on the ground from the bird’s eye view of an airplane. It was then; after her mind cleared away the exhilaration of the rush of adrenalin, when she took notice of Gatekeeper lying on the ground with the Metadeliquents huddled around her.

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Agent Jeremy snatched back the bolt on his sniper rifle rather harshly. A wisp of smoke trailed behind the ejected cartridge. “She’s still alive.” Both he and Geegornoff N’Shash were on the flying fortress’s freight elevator.

“This time, aim for exposed skin,” N’Shash nagged.

Jeremy propped the rifle against his shoulder and rested it along the guardrail. “I don’t have to be told that.”

“Then how come you didn’t do it the first time.”

“I didn’t think that flimsy spandex could stop a .50 caliber armor-piecing round,” Agent Jeremy snapped.

On the other side of the battlefield, the preteen superheroes were tending to their fallen comrade. “Gatekeeper, are you okay?” Seth examined her head inspecting the damage done by the bullet. It did not penetrate her cowl. In fact, the bullet was on the ground flattened into a blunt edge. This was twice in the same day she got laid out on the ground. She was sick and tired of being asked if she was okay. She was getting really sick...sick and tired of being on the butt end of a beating.

“I’ll be okay,” Gatekeeper opened a portal next to her, “after I done kicking this guy’s butt.” She reached and, on the other side, tripped Agent Jeremy making him fall backwards into another portal leading back to Gatekeeper. Rita and Jeremy wrestled around with the rifle. “Gimme that gun so I can shove it where the sun don’t shine.” The others backed away in case the gun goes off in the middle of the struggle. “Whadda standing there for?” Gatekeeper grunted. “Help me.” Dawn and Dusk came to her aid. The three of them pulling together was enough to force the old man’s hand off the weapon.

“Look out!” Punchline yelled and pointed at N’Shash targeting them with a shoulder-mounted rocket.

“Thanks for gathering all in one spot.” N’Shash fired at the Metadeliquents. An orange blur launched out of the front of the tube and exploded in a bright red fireball in the spot where the Metadeliquents were. But when the inferno flickered away, a black wall appeared. Dusk put up his shadow barrier just before the missile struck. N’Shash fired again, but the shield remained intact. She then fired a third, fourth, and fifth time and still, the ebony barricade did not collapse.

Out of missiles, N’Shash dashed towards to the Metadeliquents on all fours. In her front left paw was a dagger that gleamed in a silvery tint against the hazy atmosphere of sunset. “You may kill me, but not before I take some of you with me to the other side.”

Rita tapped Dusk on the shoulder and causally gestured at N’Shash. “No problem,” he replied. Dusk’s shadow wrapped itself around N’Shash’s leg and slung her around. N’Shash landed on her head with each jerk. A smaller shadow tentacle disarmed N’Shash and secured the blade inside of the black mass. Dusk released the defeated werewolf-like alien and letting her fall out of the grip of his shadow. The blows to the head were too much for even a resilient being like her. N’Shash lost consciousness.

“Where’s Diamond Joe, Golem?” Rita asked. Golem pointed to the rapidly growing speck heading their way. The other Metadeliquents got ready for their last foe as he closed the distance between them in seconds.

“Felipe is not done with you, Golem,” Diamond Joe yelled. But then he hesitated to make good on his threat. Diamond Joe was not blind to his fallen comrades. D.K. was in pieces, Red Harpy’s wings were clipped, Tamer and N’Shash were sprawled out at the feet of the Metadeliquents, and Agent Jeremy was bound by Punchline’s multi-colored confetti. Diamond Joe abandoned his fellow Despots and cowardly retreated.

“Let’s get Diamond Joe before he gets away,” Rita ordered. Diamond Joe ran by Rita’s new portal, but the other Metadeliquents, especially Golem whose aura was tense enough to make even Rita think twice about repeating the command, were busy eyeing the ring leader of the Despots.

“I’m impressed,” the Alchemist clapped in a semi-mocking tone. “On one hand twelve minutes, eight second was a little long to figure out how we were you while you were teleporting. I almost called off the orbital bombardment, but fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds to beat the Despots; impressive. My projections were on the order of twenty-five minutes give or take thirty seconds. And I like the ingenuity of developing a computer virus that can defeat even my computer systems.”

“You mean to tell me you expected these brats to beat us?” Agent Jeremy snarled as he struggled fervently against his unyielding constraints. “Curse you, Alchemist.”

“Now, now,” Alchemist wagged his finger. “I gave you the opportunity of defeat the Metadeliquents. Don’t blame me for *your* failure.”

“But you said the Metadeliquents couldn’t beat us,” the disembodied head of D.K. sniveled. “That they had trouble beating just one of us and that all of us were more than enough.”

“Ah, but that street goes both ways. None of you ever fought the Metadeliquents at their strongest. In all of your encounters, none of you faced all of the Metadeliquents at one time. And now that they seduced my Golem away from me...”

“Oh please,” Golem huffed.

“...what chance there was to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat is gone,” and then he remarked, “That and your team work stinks.” The fallen Despots jeered the Alchemist for his criticism, but he didn’t give them a second thought. “Gatekeeper, Deathtone, Punchline, Dawn, and Dusk...”

“Don’t forget Mr. Whiskers,” Punchline injected.

“Of course,” the Alchemist said apologetically, “and Mr. Whiskers; I have a proposal.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Golem pleaded. “He’s evil. Whatever he has to say is a lie.”

The Alchemist pulled a tiny gold bar the size of a domino out of his lab coat pockets. “Is that so?” The gold bar was tossed to the Metadeliquents. Rita picked it up. “I have machines that turn base metals like lead and tin into gold. A handful of those bars is worth more than your parents will make in a year, and my transmutation machines can make them by the ton.”

“If you sell out like everyone else, I’ll...”

“We ain’t sellouts, Golem.” Golem was taken back by the defiance in Rita’s words. “I don’t care how much gold you can make. We’re not turning evil.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:57 PM

(continued from the last post)

“I’m sure you don’t speak for the others.” The other Metadeliquents were sized up by the Alchemist. “Well?” The Alchemist held another gold bar between his fingers and shook it in front of them. The young superheroes answered him with boos and hisses.

“Drop dead,” said Dusk.

“Yeah,” Punchline joined in, “you tell him, Dusk.”

“Bhaaaa,” Dawn stuck out his tongue.

Then everyone looked at Seth. “What! I’m not joining him. I’m not that bad.”

Red Harpy slammed her fist into the ground. “You mean you’re created the Despots just to recruit these kids?”

“You’re going to pay for this!” D.K. snarled.

“Don’t worry he will,” Gatekeeper said the Despots. “You’re going to jail with them.”

“Here me out, Metadeliquents,” the Alchemist decreed, “If you do not join me, then by the end of the day, I will turn the entire world against you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Gladly,” the Alchemist menaced.

The Alchemist’s wrist was held tight in Rita’s grip, but Rita was tempted to let go. Her skin crawled; repulsed by the Alchemist’s Cheshire Cat grin that broaden to inhuman dimensions. The cold chill down her spine could not snap Gatekeeper from the paralysis from witnessing the Alchemist’s mouth growing wider than the length of Rita’s forearm. Then a raving demon burst from within the Alchemist’s mouth. It had three red eyes and scaly skin and a mouth full of jagged yellow-brown teeth. Seth, Calvin, Kevin, and Punchline sang out in the same chorus of screaming with Rita. The composition of the monster that was once the Alchemist flowed like tar and molded into a cheetah and sprinted across the mining camp to a rock formation and walk through it, just the holographic illusion the Vadda’Ra, the race of werewolf-like aliens that N’Shash belong to, used to hide the path to their secret base.

The rock formation faded out of existence; in its place, a jet plane. The Alchemist/monster/cheetah climbed in the cockpit front seat. A man in a jewel encrusted Mardi Gras mask accompanied him the back seat. The cheetah shifted form again taking the shape of a man. His skin was speckled all different colors, and he was completely bald. The man in the Mardi Gras mask gave them a wave before the jet was sent jettison down the flat surface by a catapult not unlike the ones used on aircraft carriers.

“Whoa!” Gatekeeper addressed Golem. “Why didn’t you tell use the Alchemist could turn into stuff?”

“The Alchemist can’t,” Golem said defensively. “That was Shifter.”

“What?”

“Shifter, one of the Agents of Deception.”

“Agents of Deception?”

“A bunch of nobodies; don’t worry about them.”

“We should, if the Alchemist sent them. And who’s the guy in the jet with him.”

“That’s probably Hologram Man.”

“What’s his powers?” Dawn’s question was answered with a slap to the back of the head by his brother.

“Are there anymore Agents of Deception?” Rita asked.

“Yeah, the other two are Pretty Poison and Lieaceit. Pretty Poison has the power to make any man fall in love with her by rubbing her fingers on their skin. And Lieaceit, he makes anyone believe any lie he tells them.”

“Lieaceit,” Seth chuckled. “What a lame name.”

“We’ll worry about them later. Right now, the Despots need to be taken care of.” The Metadeliquents began the task of securing the Despots for teleportation to prison, all of them except for Rita, who seemed distant from the others.

“Is there something wrong?” asked Calvin.

“No, everything’s fine.” Rita assured Calvin.

“Yeah, except my house got nuke by a death ray from outer space.” Punchline revealed his frustration by handcuffing Tamer tight enough to make him cry out and to cut off the circulation in hands which were growing dark purple.

“Yeah, I don’t have anywhere to go either,” Golem said in accordance. Both, the good evil clown and stone-skinned girl glared at Rita expecting her to provide a place for them to stay.

“I suppose,” Rita said apprehensively, “you can stay one night.”

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Hologram Man, the man in the top hot and brilliantly adorned mask turned a dial just before a television monitor on his instrument panel. An image of the real Alchemist materialized. He looked identical to the form that Shifter took when he posed as the Alchemist.

“Did they accept my invitation?” the Alchemist asked.

Shifter shook his head. “No sir. In fact, the little punks tried to arrest me thinking I was you.”

“These children can still be mine. They just lack the proper motivation.” The image split in half. The Alchemist was on the right side of the screen, and Satoshi was on the left. “Lieaceit”

“Yes, sir.” Satoshi replied.

“I believe it’s time to inform the President of who’s responsible for the devastation that occurred today.”

Satoshi was a cat gleaming sinfully at the opportunity to snatch some unsuspecting prey into his jaws. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

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The White House called the major cable news outlets and nationally published newspapers to an emergency press conference being held on the White House lawn to inform the public and squelch panic caused by the ominous beams of light from the sky. The White House staff furnished the gathering with five rows of foldout chairs, spotlights, a projector screen, and a cedar podium. One by one, members of the press were escorted to their seat as secret service agents check their press badges. Off to the side, security screened the camera crew for weapons with their metal-detecting wands. The head of security for the President survey the final precautionary measures to insure the Commander-in-Chief’s well-being. He gave the nod and the President, a middle-age man with pepper hair and hazel eyes adorn in a gray suit and blue tie, and his black suit guards marched to the podium.

The President cleared his throat and prepped for the solemn demeanor that was essential to console the nation in this dire hour. “I have called you journalists here today to address the random and senseless attacks on this nation.” The movie projector behind him switched on to a map of the United States. Red X’s marked several locations scattered across the projector. “As a result of these attacks, wild fires spread across three states and a chemical plant was devastated and leaking toxins in the environment. In each of these attacks, the Metadeliquents were seen in the area seconds before the beams of light struck. Our worst fears have been confirmed: the Metadeliquents are not heroes. They have toyed with our trust and played us for fools.”

One of the reporters, in earnest, raised her hands. The President acknowledged her presence and indicated that she could speak up. “Mr. President, isn’t it a little early to assume the Metadeliquents were behind these attacks. Could it be possible they were trying to save people or even stop the attacks?”

“May I speak to them Mr. President?” A young Asian man in a dark blue suit and red tie requested.

“Certainly.” As the man approached the podium, the President introduced him to the reporters. “I’m going to let our newest, and our most promising White House aid, Satoshi Nobuko, explain everything.”

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:58 PM

(continued from the last post)

Satoshi disconnected the mike from the podium and stepped to the side. “Members of the press corps,” please, it’s come to my attention that some of you still believe the lies that’s been perpetrated these last few months.” The audience voiced their shock in murmurs. Satoshi hammered down on the podium and pointed at the reporters. “I assure you, the Metadeliquents are just that: delinquents. They were seen in every single attack.” The spectators were even more disconcerted. “All of their so-call heroic attacks were staged for you the press to filtrate to the public. They’ve made you their partners-in-crime, and without you know about it. I’ll stake the reputation of this presidency on it.”

A private conference was held in a huddle by the reporters. Finally, a woman, mid-60’s whose wrinkly features was concealed by several layers of make-up, walked up to the podium and cradled Satoshi’s hand in her own. “I, on behalf of the free press, wish to apologize to you and the American people for being the Metadeliquents’ accomplices.”

Satoshi’s mood did a 180; the focus, piecing eyes and fearsome disposition that a moment ago mesmerized the spectators transposed into a warm, friendly aura. “There’s no need to show contrition. They tricked you; they tricked us all.”

The elderly woman also broke down on stage and bear hugged Satoshi. The tears that she held back moistened her eyes. “Oh thank you, you sweet young man.”

Satoshi gently parted the old woman’s arms around her chest and hopped off the stage. “Could you pause the live feed for a second?” The reporters cue their camera men to switch off their equipment. To the left, the guards detained Mary Nodell and her camera crew. Their video recorder was being inspected by two of the secret service agents. “Oh, Ms. Nodell,” Satoshi warmed greeted, “I’m glad to see you. I almost thought you’d miss the press conference.”

Mary brushed back her sweaty and disheveled bangs to the side. “I came here,” she panted for air, “as soon I heard. And I got proof of who’s behind the attacks.”

“We already know who did it, Mary,” said an Asian-American reporter. “It was the Metadeliquents.” The reporter was disdainful of Mary for gawking at him as if he was stupid.

“Excuse me!”

“Like we said: the Metadeliquents did it,” the elderly woman reiterated. “They’ve used us to deceive the whole world into thinking they’re heroes.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

“Miss Nodell,” Satoshi said, “it is true: the Metadeliquents was behind the laser attacks.”

“If that’s true, then how come I have them on tape being shot at by the same lasers?” Satoshi looked sour for a moment and then shifted back to his congenial facade.

Another male reporter jumped out of his seat. “Is that on the same tape with you cutting a backroom deal with The Tamer?”

“Oh please,” Mary. “Like none of you ever staged an interview before.”

“There’s no need for that.” Satoshi said calming the disgruntled mob. “Mary is being a good reporter scrutinizing all of the details with the eyes of a skeptic. She should be commended.”

Mary Nodell was not flattered. “In that case, you wouldn’t mind letting me air my tape of what really happened.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Nodell, but that tape will have to be confiscated.” The security guards passed on the tape to Satoshi while he sheepishly grinned at her.

Mary scanned the room looking for support from the others. “Well, aren’t you going to stop him?”

The elderly reporter scoffed. “Why should we?”

“What about First Amendment rights?” Then she set her eyes on the President. “And you? Why are you letting this snot-nose kid speak for you, the President?”

The President spoke up. “Because I’d trust that snot-nose brat, that’s why.”

“We all do Mr. President.” The other reporters nodded in agreement with the elderly reporter. Mary Nodell shook her head and stomped out of the conference.

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“How did the broadcast go?” Shifter said over Hologram Man’s shoulder.

“Better than expected. Every single television station in the world broadcasted Lieaceit’s message. Millions now believe the Metadeliquents are criminals.”

“So, you don’t us to do our little thing, right?” Hologram Man inquired.

“On the contrary, I need you more than ever.”

“Millions my have watched, but million mores didn’t see the broadcast and wouldn’t be affected by his powers.” His tone of voice became deeper. “Besides, I don’t want Satoshi to get all of the credit. His ego is inflated enough as it is.” An indicator on the control console lit up. The words ‘seat ejection system ready’ was printed on it. “Shifter, the prime minister of Great Britain is in Denver. See to that Punchline gives him a proper reception.”

“As you wish, Alchemist.” Shifter was wisped out of the cockpit. His parachute deployed, and Shifter drifted down. But what would have been a fatal act of stupidity for a normal man; Shifter unlatched his parachute and plummeted down. His arms expanded into a pair of wings and his head stretched into a beak. Shifter now took the form of a gigantic eagle.

“And as for you, Hologram Man...” The image of the Alchemist was substituted by that of a dam. “I have a little demolition work I need Dawn’s assistance in.”

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The Prime Minister of Great Britain exited the bathroom in a pair of light blue pajamas and fell face first on his elegantly crafted king-size bed. On each side of the bed were two secret service agents in black suit and tie. “Oh, what a bothersome day,” he mumbled. “I’m going to have stay in this hotel for another day just so I can have my meeting with the President tomorrow, and I owe a debt of gratitude to those super-powered hooligans,” he said sarcastically.

The Prime Minister suddenly flinched when he heard a gun go off just outside of his room. Then, more shots rang out. The Prime Minister was pale and shaking with fright.

“Stay here, sir,” said an agent as he led the Prime Minister out of the bedroom to the bathroom. “Don’t leave until we say it’s safe to come out,” he instructed the Prime Minister. He put his ear against the door and listened out for his guards’ instructions, but instead, the sound of a door broken down followed by another string of gunshots filtered through. Agents screamed to each other in the background of the gun battle. The frightened Prime Minister inched back to the other side of the bathroom. The ensuing turmoil went silent. All that was left were footsteps that were closing it. Without warning, the bathroom door was ripped off its hinges by a pair of tiny gloved hands.

“Good day, mate,” Shifter, who was in the form of Punchline the Clown, greeted the Prime Minister. “No, that’s not it. That’s was Australians say. How do they say ‘Hello’ in Britain?”

“Stay back!” The Prime Minister hurled various personal hygiene items at Punchline/Shifter who batted them away with his carnival hammer.

“No, that’s not it, either.” Punchline/Shifter snapped his fingers. “I know, they say, ‘OUCH’.” Punchline/Shifter connected his hammer to the side of the Prime Minister’s head.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 09:59 PM

(continued from the last post)

Under the indigo night sky and glow of the full moon, metallic legs clicked with each step made on the side of the moldy walls of the dam saddled between two ridges that make up the border for a man-made valley. The only source of water in the arid depression was an aqueduct; a paved channel that directed the path of water trickling from a hydroelectric power plant at the foot of the dam. The metallic legs, eight of them, were attached to a circular disk the side of a dinner table. A cylinder with four flanges extending from it was attached to its underbelly. The stainless steel spider trekked to the center of the dam and, with a pair of smaller limbs, bolted the cylinder onto the cement barrier along with four smaller cylinders that were plastered at the far corners. Waiting for the robot was Hologram Man. He leaned up against an oak tree; arms folded across his chest and a cigarette between his fingers.

“Are the bombs in place?” The Alchemist’s crackling murmur squelched through the walkie-talkie. Hologram Man took a drag from his cigarette and focused on the mechanical arachnid making its way in towards him.

“Yes, sir, the bombs are armed and ready to go off at your command,” Hologram Man said puffing smoke out of mouth. He dropped his cigarette and extinguished it under his foot. One could scarcely glance at Hologram Man unmasked without the temptation of looking away. His eyes were metallic globes with a ruby lenses in the place of pupils. There was no skin covering the outer edges of the eye socket. Instead, an array of smaller lenses encircled each of the larger ones. Multiple beams of light were emitted by the lenses. They coalesced at the bottom of the dry lake bed forming the image of Dawn.

Fake laser beams fired from the palms of the fake Dawn. Each beam struck the cylinder at the corners of the dam. Hologram Man triggered the remote detonator inside of his coat pocket. The red signal light gleaming from his coat herald the emergence of four fireballs, one after another, which shaded the surrounding in a purple hue as the red glow of the explosives overlapped the dark blue of the night sky, at the dam’s four corners.

Hologram Man cracked his fingers “And now to wait for my captive audience.” And it didn’t take long either. In seconds, a stream of panicking workers poured out of the power plant seated at the foot of the dam. Satisfied that he had enough witnesses, Hologram Man commence with the finale of his 3-D show. The mirage fired on the center of dam, and on cue, the explosives detonated. The newly formed gusher poured thousands of gallons of water from the dam’s puncture wound, but not before Dawn stepped into a portal and ‘teleported’ away. The deluge of murky water rumbled to a deafening volume and drowned out the screaming workers swept up in the stampede of mud, water, and gravel.

Hologram Man clicked on his walkie-talkie. “The dam’s been destroyed.”

“What about the witnesses?” The Alchemist asked.

Hologram Man scanned the flooded valley and spotted some of the workers out of the water, soaked and shivering from their late night bath, but on high ground. “There’s a few.”

“Good enough. So long as they blame the Metadeliquents on the attack, it won’t matter.”

“Is there anything else, sir?”

“No, you’ve done your part. The lie has been told, the evidence planted, and all that’s left is the proper motivation...”

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“Mr. President, I must

Knuckled wrapped against the steel door of the White House briefing room. The President peeked over of the huddle military brass each with at least one star on his shoulder and cabinet members and White House aids in business attire.

“Stanley,” the President addressed the secret service agent guarding the door, “could you see who that it and unless it’s Chalmers, tell them to wait till the meeting is over.”

The agent nodded his head and cracked opened the door. The agent’s eyes widen and his brow arched in surprise of the person on the other side of the door. He adjusted his tie, tugged his coat, and smoothed his hair. “Ms. Sullivan, it’s good to see here.” In seconds of mentioning her name, every man in the room rushed to the door and trampled the poor agent. His pleas went unheeded by the awestruck men.

At the door stood a woman in a low-cut burgundy skirt, white blouse, and burgundy coat. She was about 5’6” with flowing jet black hair that reached down to her waist and milky white skin. Her emerald eyes sparkled underneath her tears. She had been crying. The tears traced two paths of moisture across her cheeks.

One of the generals tried to wipe away Natalie’s tears, but the President slapped the back of his hand. “What’s wrong Natalie?” The President soaked up her tears with a Kleenex. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I want to help you.” The other men interjected and pledged their support for Natalie.

Natalie looked down on the floor. “It was just a bad dream.”

The President placed his finger underneath her chin and tilted his head. “Tell me what it was about.”

“It was those horrible children. I watched the news and saw what they did to that dam and the Prime Minister, and I couldn’t stop thinking about them.” The President was caught in Natalie’s embrace. “It felt so real.” Natalie’s head was cradled in the President’s arm and nestled into his chest.

“General.”

“Yes, sir,” the general saluted.

“You have the resources of this country at your disposal. Pull our troops out of the Middle East if you have to.”

“Mr. President,” a man a white uniform and skipper’s cap addressed the President, “As head of the US Navy, I volunteer our services to assist in the capture of the Metadeliquents.”

“And do what?” The general scoffed. “Last time I checked, the Metadeliquents stay on dry land.”

“I’ll have every single sailor in the fleet going on foot if I have to.”

“Both of you can sit this one out,” says a third man in uniform. “The US Air Force will take care of this.” He glanced over his shoulder to Natalie. “With their teleportation powers, we’re the only ones that have any hope of catching the Metadeliquents.”

The three high-ranking officers shouted back and forth in their one-upmanship. Soon, the other cabinet members joined the verbal tirade starting with the Security of Homeland Security. And in that commotion, Natalie motioned to the security guard that she needs to go to the restroom. After being escorted there, she makes a call on her cellphone. The exquisite young woman could scarcely hold back the crafty smile that ran from ear to ear.

“How’s your end coming along Pretty Poison?” The Alchemist asked on the other side of the line.

“As you planned sir; they’re going to throw everything they have at the Metadeliquents even if they have to pull out troops from oversea bases.”

“Now, let’s see if Rita Williams will be so quick to turn down my offer to join me.”

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“Hello?” A groggy Mary Nodell answered her phone. Yesterday depleted her of all of her vigor and three hours of sleep just wasn’t enough to rejuvenate her. Mary rubbed her eyes and brushed off the flakes of crust from her reddish cheeks.

“It’s me, Alan.” Officer Hannity replied. “What’s the hell’s going on?”

“I don’t know. They’re saying the Metadeliquents blew up a dam and put the Prime Minister of the UK in the hospital. Looks like they went off the deep end.”

“That’s bull. They also said they were responsible for the laser attacks, but we were there when it happened.” Hannity’s tone lowered. “Did you destroy the evidence, Mary?”

“Of course not. I tried to show it to them, but they were confiscated.”

“Your reporter friends didn’t raise a fuss over it?”

“Are you kidding? Not a single one objected.”

“So much for the press protecting First Amendment rights.”

“It’s like they’re brainwashed. They don’t want to believe anything other than the line the White House is feeding them. Hell, the President isn’t talk to anyone. He’s relaying everything through some wet behind the ears intern. I can’t get a hundred feet of him or his cabinet members.”

“Those, it’s not so bad.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The Metadeliquents got their bad boy reputation, right Mary?”

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And indeed they have, though they probably don’t want it. All of the cards are in the Alchemist’s corner. The world believes the Metadeliquents are evil with the help of his Agents of Deception; the world’s most powerful nation is gunning for them, and worst of all, the Alchemist knows their secret identities. With the deck stacked against them, how can the Metadeliquents stand up against the military might of the United States, clear their name, and stop the Alchemist from exposing them? Find out in the next installment of Metadeliquents.

CrossoverManiac

08-23-2006, 10:04 PM

If you love or hate my story, don't hestitate to give me a review.

CrossoverManiac

01-25-2007, 02:47 PM

Metadeliquents 16: Metadeliquents-Rest in Peace: Is this the end of the Metadeliquents

Metadeliquents is the intellectual property of Timothy Weaver a.k.a. CrossoverManiac

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Rita’s point of view

You want to do what?!? I don’t believe this. Punchline and Golem wanted to stay with me?!? No way am I going to let that happen.

“Dusk, Dawn, your mom got lots of room in her house.”

Calvin shook his head. “No we don’t! Edith’s groupies are crashing out at our house.”

“Don’t look at me.” I didn’t ask you, Seth.

“Aw come on bestest best friend Gatekeeper.” Punchline tried to snuggle up to me, but I pushed him away. “Don’t make us sleep out in the cold.” Punchline play acted like he was shivering even though its June.

“Whadda want to me to do with that?” I pointed to the three ton rabbit.

“Park him in the garage like a really hairy SUV.” I hope Punchline was kidding. “But I can’t live my little bunny all along.” I guess he didn’t miss the big frown I made.

The mutant rabbit sniffed Golem and snorted and sprayed rabbit snot on her. “Yeah, I’m sure my brother would love to see the three-ton rabbit in his garage.” Golem drew back to hit Mr. Whiskers had I not stepped in the last second. “And Golem doesn’t like being around him.”

“That’s her problem.”

“It’ll be yours too when I knock your teeth down your throat,” Golem menaced.

I cut in front of her before a fight, or should I say ‘massacre’ because no way in hell Punchline’s living though even one punch from Golem. “Are you sure your mom don’t have a place to keep Mr. Whiskers?” I look Kevin in the eye. Kevin’s sort of gullible. I’m sure he’ll volunteer to help.

Kevin brightened up. “Oh! Oh! I know! I know!” He bobbed up and down energetically. “Edith has a little zoo thing called a wild life refuge, and...”

“Dawn!” Calvin snapped at Kevin.

“What?”

Calvin glared at me and then back at Kevin. “Don’t let Gatekeeper talk you into pawning Punchline and his freak pet off on us.”

The emo/goth has to open his big mouth. I took hold of Punchline’s hand which reached behind his back for his clown hammer.

“Let’em try it, Rita!” Calvin’s shadow grew in length and heading for me and Punchline. “I’ve been wantin’ to kick his butt.”

Fortunately, Kevin came to the rescue. He blocked off Calvin’s shadow. “Please, Calvin, don’t fight!” He flayed his arms around in a panic.

Idiots! Do I have to spell it out? I reintegrated, “No real names you two.”

“We’re the only ones here, stupid!” Calvin snapped.

“WILL Y’ALL CUT THE BULL@#$@ !!!” Ouch! My eardrums! Seth can drown out a jet engine when he gets it in his mind to be heard. The effects on the others were the same for them as it was for me. Golem cupped her ears while Calvin and Kevin stuck their fingers into them. And for one second, I could have sworn Seth shook the ground we stood on.

“Thanks,” I indicated my gratitude to Seth. “Our next door neighbors are on vacation. If I teleport Mr. Whiskers in their garage, he won’t get out, right?”

Punchline nodded. “Mr. Whiskers is a good bunny.” Punchline pointed at Golem. “But is nasty old stone-girl coming too, Rita?”

“That’s enough, Punchline!” I scolded. “And how many times I have to say ‘no real names’!”

“Sorry Gatekeeper.” Don’t even try it, Punchline, as if the puppy dog looks works on me. “I don’t care if you sleep on the street, make trouble and you’re out.”

“Yes Gatekeeper.”

I folded space-time and all of the Despots except for N’Shash sunk into the vortex that exited into the usual county jail. I then opened a portal next to my dresser and rummaged though the drawer stuffed with socks until I uncovered the golden pendant given to me by Mr. Smith, penned it on N’Shash’s clothes, and pressed the red jewel in the center of the pendant’s gold reef pattern. N’Shash snarled and exposed her jagged her ivory teeth and yellow eyes. “Whatcha mad for. I’m sending you back to outer space.” I know I’m the mature one, but once in a while I have to indulge in a little gloating.

“Gorith cawra ni vax Sus Nix tugna!” I didn’t need to understand her language to tell I got cursed out. I couldn’t help but to chuckled.

“Can we go home now, *Gatekeeper* or are you having too much fun teasing the werewolf?” Seth whined. Gee, aren’t I allowed to have a little fun.

“Go home?” Golem put her foot down hard enough to split a long crack along the ground. “We beat the Alchemist first. Then go home.”

“No’um,” Calvin jumped in. “You do whatever you want. Me and my brother’s done.”

“But I want help Golem fight the...ouch!” Kevin flinched after Calvin hit him on the shoulder.

I clutched Golem hand into mine so she would calm down. Her skin felt coarse like sandpaper. “We’re all tired and couldn’t fight the Alchemist if we did find him. We’ll go after him tomorrow.” Calvin, Seth, and even Punchline moaned.

“Fine, I’ll wait. But if you won’t help me,” Golem waved her fist at them “, I’ll make’em.” Before the others could say something stupid and pick a fight, I teleported Seth, Calvin, and Kevin home and Punchline and Mr. Whiskers into the garage next door. Golem was going to be a problem. She’s strong, but that attitude of hers made me wonder: why the hell would the Alchemist want this pushy brat?

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“T.J.!” I called out. When I was certain he wasn’t around, I teleported Golem into my bedroom. “I’d let you have the bed, but T.J. can’t know you’re here. You have to sleep in my closet on the sleeping bag.” I switched on the television. “But until he comes back, you get first pick on what show to watch.” Golem’s lips puckered up. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Do I have to sleep here?”

“Yeah, T.J. can’t know you’re here.”

“The room.”

“What about it?”

“It’s too sissy,” scoffed Golem. Yep, bona fide, grade-A tomboy, and Hitomi says I’m not feminine enough.

“So, what’s your room is like?” I asked hoping to break the ice.

“I don’t have a home, not anymore. I ran away, remember.”

“Oh sorry, it must be hard on you. It must be cold and wet sleeping outside.”

“Please,” Golem flexed her bicep. I could barely see it, even though her muscles were strong enough to hit Diamond Joe and make him feel it. “I’m tough. The weather doesn’t bother me.” I guess not, not with that tough hide. “You like sports?” Now she’s asking questions. At least she’s talking too.

“Not really. Use to be a ballerina but I gave it up for this.” I dangled my Gatekeeper mask between my fingers.

“You call that a sport?” Golem giggled. “I play basketball.”

“Basketball?”

“Yeah, I used to play football, but it was boring because no one could tackle me. But then, Osric...”

“Who’s Osric?”

“That’s the Alchemist’s real name.”

“Oh!”

“Where was I? Oh yeah, Osric made me play basketball; says I needed to learn not to muscle my way through life. But I was so good at that, he made up handicap rules for me.”

“Like what?”

“Made the basketball court a mile long and the players robots, except me. It was still easy, until he made bigger robots.” Robot basketball?!? The vision of clanking metal men dribbling a ball was enough to pry my lips open and made me laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Golem looked confused.

I did my best robot impersonation, which wasn’t that good. “I am robo-Jordon. I will take you to the court.” Golem didn’t think it was funny. She had that ‘you lost your mind’ look on her face.

“Your dad must be smart to make robots that play basketball.”

“He’s not my father!” Golem crossed her eyes and stared angrily. “And I don’t wanna talk anymore.” Golem marched to the door, bent over, and cautiously gripped the knob between her index finger and thumb. “I’m going after the Alchemist without you.” Golem turned the doorknob gradually.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving, what does it look like?”

“But why are you opening the door like that.”

“I have trouble controlling my strength. If I’m not careful...”

“HI BESTEST BEST FRIEND! MR. WHISKERS GONE BEDDY BYE AND I’M BORED!” The doorknob was crushed like a soda can. Punchline, you moron! Why didn’t you use the door instead of coming though my bedroom window like a regular person? “I really messed up this time, huh Rita?”

“I’m going to kill’em!” And I would have, if Golem didn’t stop me this time.

“I’m sorry.”

“’Sorry’ isn’t fixing my door.”

“I’ll fix it. I promise.” Punchline emptied his coat pockets.

“TURN OFF THE TV! TURN IT OFF!” Golem was all in a panic. The news was on. It was too early for the news unless something bad happened. “RITA TURN IT OFF!”

I hit the mute button. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lieaceit! He’s on TV. Don’t listen to him or he’ll use his powers on you.” It was then I saw it. The TV was on mute, but the captions still ran across the TV screen. You know the captions; the ones that summarize the news being covered. It read: METADELIQUENTS: WORLD’S GREATEST THREAT

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(continues on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-25-2007, 02:53 PM

(continued from the last post)

I’ve been glued to the TV for the last hour. So far, the Metadeliquents, according to the TV set forest fires and demolished a factory with a laser and blew up the dam for a hydroelectric power plant. And I couldn’t believe who it was. A power plant worker shot the footage with a video phone. And the weird thing was, he teleported, and I know I didn’t do it. I dial-up Edith’s number.

“Hey Edith.”

“Oh hello, Rita. Calling about what you heard on the news?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I warned you about the corporate-run media; fascist propaganda.”

Punchline tapped me on the shoulder. “I’m done putting on the new doorknob.”

“Thanks Punchline, now go back the house next door,” I hurried Punchline out the house through a portal. Now back to business. “Is Kevin with you?”

“Of course he is, wanna talk to him.”

“No, but I hate to ask, but where has he been for the last hour?”

“Rita, Rita, Rita. Do you really think he would such a thing? But to answer your question, he’s been helping me in the kitchen making soy burgers for the gang.” Over the phone, in the background, I heard the TV set on a news program. “Edith, you didn’t hear a guy named Satoshi Nobuko did you?”

There was a short pause. “Oh, you mean that bozo, Nobuko. Our glorious commander-in-thief is too cowardly to spread his lies himself. He goes into hiding and let this clown do the talking for him. Why you ask?” Because you could be under Lieaceit’s control, that’s why.

“You don’t believe him?”

“Of course not. My boys wouldn’t do those things. And I take anything said on corporate-run media with a ton of salt. If you need to go underground, I have friends that can smuggle you to Argentina.”

“That’s okay Edith.” What a crackpot! Though, I wonder why Lieaceit’s power didn’t work on her.

“No, I want to help. Don’t let that little spat last week fool you. You’ve done so much already, let me help.” Deporting me to a foreign country isn’t my idea of helping.

“No, I don’t want to go...” The phone beeped. I checked the caller ID and saw that the call was made by Seth. “Can you hold, Edith, I got someone calling me on the other line.”

“I quit!” Not now Seth. “I heard it on the radio. We’re been framed.”

“Don’t worry, Seth. I’ll clear our name.”

“Here’s a better idea: no more Metadeliquents. They can’t catch us if we stop fighting crime.”

“You selfish little brat!”

“Whacha going to do? Turn those tapes into the police?” Nice to see Seth remember the tapes of him taking stuff with his powers that I blackmailed him into joining the Metadeliquents. “You can’t, you’re just as much of a crook as me.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Go ahead. Give the cops the tapes. You’ll be locked up too.” He’s right. I can’t use the tapes anymore, and Seth knows it.

“And now that I’m not in your stupid little club, I can have some real fun with my powers. I can’t wait to get all that free stuff.”

“Don’t be stupid! You’ll get caught for sure.”

“Whatever,” and then Seth hung up on me.

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When I was old enough to understand things a little bit, I’d ask to watch the news with dad, but he wouldn’t allow it. ‘That’s a grown-ups show’ he’d say. I was angry because dad was keeping secrets from me. ‘It isn’t fair’ and ‘I’m a big girl’ I’d argued. Then dad would take off his slipper all tough-like, and though he never hit me with it, I’d run away and not say another word. But I’m grown up since then, and I know why I wasn’t permitted to watch the news: it’s depressing the %$@& out of me!

It’s 2 a.m., and I’ve watching the news networks saying the same exact thing in fifty different ways, but still the same thing: the Metadeliquents are supervillains. Now it’s is a general saying it...no wait...an admiral. Generals dress in green. Admirals are in white.

“But don’t you consider it’s excessive to assign Naval personnel to the duties of ground troops? Isn’t this a job for the Army?” The news lady interviewing him looked nice in that purple business dress and pearl necklace or is it the fact that I’m up in the middle of the night and completely delusional and out of it? It must be. That admiral isn’t even looking at her.

“Nonsense!” That admiral sure is gung ho, though it’s peculiar that he didn’t say it to her face. “The U.S. Navy is more than ready to serve its country on land as well as the ocean unlike the other three branches of the military.” He’s still staring off to the side. The camera was redirected at the suits gathered next to the admiral and news lady. Oh that’s who he was talking to: the pretty black-haired lady in the short red skirt. I guess guys never grow out of looking macho for a pretty face. It’s a shame this dummy is one of them.

“Pretty Poison,” I forgot; Golem stayed up late with me.

“The news lady?”

“No, stupid, that one.” She identified the woman in the red dress with the black hair down to her waist. “The one that admiral was making googly eyes at.” Golem folded her hands together and puckered up her lips.

“Oh!” My eyelids drooped.

“Hey, Golem!”

“Yeah?”

“That means that admiral is in love with her, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Golem?”

“What?”

“I thought you said the Agents of Deception were nobodies. Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie. I didn’t know they were so powerful. The Alchemist told me they were his most powerful weapon, next to me. I thought he was full of crap.” Golem hung her head down. “I’m sorry for getting you into this. If I knew, I wouldn’t let you join me.”

Us join you?!? Who’s operation do you think this is? But I let that one slide.

“Let’s hit the sack before my brother gets back. He should be knocking off work by now.” I escorted Golem to her sleeping bag in the closet, and as I slipped underneath the sheets, it came to mind that Edith wasn’t affected by Lieaceit’s power. She watched him on TV and heard him, but she didn’t believe his lies. “Hey, Golem, is there a way not to believe in Lieaceit’s lies?”

“Only if that person is absolutely certain of the truth; if there is any doubt in the truth, then Lieaceit’s powers will work on you.” That makes sense. For once, Edith’s being crazy and pigheaded is a good thing.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-25-2007, 03:00 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Rita! Get your sorry rear end up now!” That yelling! Must be T.J. Ouch! My butt! “You don’t have to kick me.”

“That’s exactly what you need.” He jerked me by the arm and pulled me out of my bedroom into the den. It hurt being yanked around. “The house was lit up like the sun at three in the morning. So, that means you were up all night or you and your little friends just didn’t give a @%&#!” Oh how mature, T.J., curse in front of your little sister. Did he just say ‘your little friends’? “I know you had friends over, after I told you specifically not to have them over while I was gone.”

“I’m sorry T.J.”

“Truer words were never spoken. You are sorry and good for nothing. Oh, did I mention, the Santiago family was robbed. The burglars tore down their garage door.” Great! Mr. Whiskers wretched their house! Good job keeping Mr. Whiskers under control, Punchline! “And if they broke in here, we wouldn’t know about it,” T.J. got into my face, “BECAUSE SOMEBODY DIDN’T TURN ON THE HOUSE ALARM LAST NIGHT! That’s how I know about your little friends. I switched the alarm on after I came in, and they tripped it sneaking out this morning. But you were up so late, you didn’t even hear it.” T.J. paced around my room. “I worked way too hard to put up with your good for nothing friends.”

“She didn’t have any place to go.”

“I don’t wanna here it!”

“It was only for one night.”

“I SAID I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT! I swear, I was better off letting them take you way.”

“Who?”

“Child welfare, retard!”

I lost my breath. “You don’t mean it.”

“The hell I don’t. I wouldn’t have half the headaches I got now. You’re not worth all of this.”

I couldn’t stand to look at my brother’s face. He wouldn’t stop yelling and listen for one second; one little second. It was unbearable. I swung the door open and ran out the yard.

“Get back here, now!”

“I hate you!” I yelled back at him. Dad would have never said I was more trouble than I was worth. Something cold flowed over my cheeks. Damn, I’m crying; I was crying like a kindergartener. I’m almost twelve, and I’m crying because my brother yelled at me. Some macho hero I’m turning out to be. I won’t give T.J. the satisfaction of my tears. I pulled up my shirt and dried my face and eyes. There still wasn’t enough distance between me and the house. I recommence running away from home. I wish I was in my Gatekeeper costume so I could be on the other side of the country and away from T.J. Instead I have to run away with my own two feet.

I ran as far as I could go until I my lungs burned and dropped to my knees, which dug into the damp grass, and panted for air. More drops of water trickled down my cheeks. Was I crying again? No, that’s sweat. I think the weatherman mentioned there being a heat wave. My dingy hands wiped the sweat off my brow and left a streak of dirt behind. My heavy panting settled, and I could now draw in normal breaths. I coughed a little before getting back on my feet. I was in the park a few blocks from the house. I like walking across the bridge running over the pond at sunset where I’d go and feed the ducks scraps of bread. It was Dad’s favorite spot too, though I think he only went because I liked it. There was strange looking fish in the pond. They were as big as freshwater bass but yellow and white. They must have put them there after the last time I visited. My mind strained to remember the last time I was here. I think it was after Punchline betrayed us. I remembered because I came here because T.J. sent me to the park to...never mind, I don’t want him in my head. My attention was diverted when someone threw a few straps of bread into the pond. The mouths of the oversize goldfish broke through the surface of the water and gulped up the pieces. They didn’t seem so pretty when they were eating. In fact, they look like any other fish: disgusting.

“Relaxing isn’t Rita?” That voice! It can’t be him. “Or do you go by Gatekeeper?” But it was. The Alchemist reclined his back against the bridge guardrails right beside me, and he knew my name! How…how did he find me? I tried to step away but he held me by the arm before I had a chance to get away. “Don’t run away! I’m not here to hurt you.” He shook a plastic bag of bread in front of me. “Care to feed the fish with me?” I didn’t respond to his offer. “Well?” I took some bread from the bag and, without thinking, threw it all at once. “Funny, from what my surveillance satellites gathered, you like feeding fish in the park.”

“How?” I shook my head dumbfounded.

“Your friend Punchline.”

“Punchline, he betrayed us…again?” How could he! I thought he was sorry. That stupid clown! I’ll kill him.

“Not quite. He told Tamer your secret identities and who then told me. I then ordered Lieaceit use his powers to make Tamer think Punchline tricked him.” I’m still killing Punchline anyway. “You think I’m your mortal enemy, don’t you?”

“You’re not?” I asked sarcastically.

“Of course not! On the contrary, I’m probably your best friend.”

“So best friends frame you for crimes you didn’t do?”

“That’s merely a demonstration of my power and of human stupidity.” The Alchemist took a seat on the guardrail. “They’re so easy to manipulate aren’t they, Rita? They’ll believe whatever lie they’re told. Do you know that one out of every four people believe the Apollo moon landing was a hoax, the astronauts were merely actors, and the spaceship they flew in was a prop on a soundstage? And do you how they got this foolish idea?” He made a fist and extended his index finger. “One skillful con man; that’s all it took. One lone charlatan misrepresenting the facts, one lone charlatan tricked people into not believing their own eyes and history books, and he didn’t have special powers. Just imagine what my Agents of Deception are capable of.”

“Whadda want?” I deadpanned.

“The same as before,” the Alchemist slid off the railing and straightened up. He was a rigid statue with deep penetrating eyes. “I want the Metadeliquents in my fold as my lieutenants. You have one week to decide. If you take my generous offer,” he handed what looked like a walkie-talkie, “contact me with this. And if you chose not to, the Agents of Deception will reveal your secret identities. The world won’t be hunting down Gatekeeper and her Metadeliquents. They’ll be hunting down Rita Williams, Seth Burrell, and Calvin and Kevin Levy. Oh, and don’t try to capture me, because I’ll talk, believe me I will. Farewell, Rita.” He waved to me while walking away.

It was nauseating to see him being so causal. Oh I wanted to hurt him, bad. Anything, even if it was just the rock I plucked off the bridge on instinct, but I knew that would just tick him off enough to make him want to tell right away. The rock slid out of my hand and bounced off the bridge into the water and plopped in the water, which left behind a growing ripple in the gray surface of the pond. I slumped against the rail and skim down until I was sitting on the bridge. All I could do is gaze through the rails at the squirrels darting from fallen acorn to fallen acorn and think of a way out of this mess. What way! The Alchemist got us beat. One false move and the world know who we really are, and even if we wait, he’ll rat us out anyway. All of a sudden, all I could think of was T.J. Our fight seemed some pointless. And now he’s going to get dragged into all of this. What if they hurt T.J.? He didn’t do anything to deserve this. I’m the one who deserves to suffer. No, it isn’t my fault. It wasn’t like I had a choice. That’s a lie Rita said a voice in the back of my head. Deep down inside, you wanted to be Gatekeeper. You had to prove your father right; he said the world needed superheroes and you were that superhero. And that was true. Whenever I saved someone’s life or catch a criminal, it was like proving my dad wasn’t some crazy man that torched houses for fun. The park sure did look gloomy all of a sudden despite the blue, cloudless sky. Must be my disposition, I thought. I made my way out of the park when the empty feeling that one gets when going downhill fast on a rollercoaster came over me as my feet fell to touch the ground.

I was falling. The first notion that flashed in my brain was that I slipped and stumbled off the bridge. But I’ve been falling for a whole minute. I should have hit the water a long time ago. And why are there stars streaking by me? My stomach wanted to spew out the ham and cheese sandwich I had last night. I clapped my hands over my mouth. Underneath my feet was the blue ring of electricity; the same one that formed the boundary of my portals. Am I the one doing this? I braced myself for a crash landing into whatever waited me at the other end of the portal. Hopefully, it’ll be soft and it’ll cushion my fall.

I passed though the portal and landed feet first. The impact made me stumble forward, but I was able to keep my balance, barely. A neon blue fog embraced me while millions of glittering diamonds flaunted their brilliance and glory in an elliptical formation ten times brighter than the full moon. I was so entranced by the enchantment of these new wonders that I wasn’t aware of the creatures before me until they surrounded me.

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

01-25-2007, 03:01 PM

(continued from the last post)

I gasped to keep from crying out at the horrid beings before me. Each one of the brown creatures had a huge bulbous head about two or three feet long and about nine inches wide with a row of three horns on the left and right side of their heads. They had a pair of huge green eyes with yellows spots the size of tennis balls with a single black slit in the center. Their mouths were circles with a ring of jagged yellow teeth that curved outward from the mouth. It had three arms, two on its sides and one in the middle of its chest. It also had three legs, one in the back and two in front, which bear a strong likeness to the three legged coffee tables in our living room. It was the silhouette of a human being ventured from blue haze. The form which was only a specter took shape before my eyes. Now I recognize him. It was Mr. Impossible.

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The US military is on their tails, Punchline and Mr. Whiskers is missing, Deathtone is running amuck, and the Alchemist threatening to reveal their secret identities, and on top of that, Rita ran away from home. Things aren’t looking up for the Metadeliquents. And what does these strange alien creatures want with Rita and why is Mr. Impossible with them? Find out in the next installment of Metadeliquents.

CrossoverManiac

03-07-2007, 08:34 PM

Metadelinquents-Issue 17: Dark Revelation-The secret origin of the Metadelinquents revealed

Metadelinquents is the intellectual property of Timothy Weaver a.k.a. CrossoverManiac

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Rita’s point of view

“Hello Rita,” Mr. Impossible greeted. He knelt down and hugged me. “I’m sorry I waited so long to check up on you.”

“Mr. Impossible,” I said, “what’s going on?”

“I asked them to bring you here.” He gestured to the creatures.

“You mean you had those monsters kidnap me?!?”

“So, does that make me a monster, too?” I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Come now, Rita, didn’t your father tell you I have the power to change my form.” Shapeshifter?!? It took a second to click, but it hit me. No! It can’t be. “But I am one of them. What you see here before you is my race; my species; my true form.” Is he really one of the hideous creatures? “Oh don’t be so mean, Rita. To us, humans aren’t that attractive.” Hey! He’s reading my mind. “Oh sorry about that.” He closed his eyes. “I apologize. My kind communicates telepathically to each other, and I forgot humans don’t like their thoughts being probed.”

“You’re damn right I don’t like my thoughts probed,” I huffed. The nerve of him! If I wanted him to know what I was thinking, I would have told him myself. I pouted and looked away from him at the other aliens...who are probably reading my mind too. “I bet you’re reading my mind too.” They didn’t seem to indicate one way or the other. Probably think they’re better than me. “So, why did you bring me?”

“To give you the means to defeat the Alchemist and save your brother. And I think you’re ready for the truth.”

“The truth?”

“We are known throughout the universe as the Storytellers.” That name, I’ve heard it before.

Flashback

“Put the weapon down and surrender, now,” called out a woman’s voice over Rita’s shoulder. Only it didn’t sound quite human. It had a slight echo. Rita looked to her side and saw a werewolf with a pistol pointed at her head. It wore only a sash across its chest with some symbols and metals on it and a utility belt across its waist. Rita opened a portal with one side in front of its weapon while the side was right in front of the werewolf’s face. It tried to move its weapon up and down trying to get its sights set on Gatekeeper only to have the portal keep up with the gun while the other end stand still. Rita opened a portal on the side of the creature and swung Punchline’s clown hammer at it, only to have the creature catch it and yank Rita through the portal. It held Rita right next to her chest. “You can’t escape through your portals if you’re up against me.” Then it pointed its weapon to Rita’s back and called out. “Humans! Surrender now or she dies!” The battlefield went silent. The werewolves came out the shadows with weapons and surrounded the children forcing them to raise their arms while pointing their guns at them. Suddenly, Mr. Whiskers started leaping over to the werewolves ready to attack them. “Call off your beast, or you die.” Rita didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have any control over Punchline’s pet. Then, she felt the werewolf’s grip tighten squeezing the breath out of her. “I said call off your beast.”

“Mr. Whiskers heel!” commanded Punchline who was barely standing up despite his injuries.

“Well, well, well,” said the werewolf, “I didn’t know the Storytellers created such freaks to fight their battles for them.”

“Storytellers?” puzzled Rita.

“You primitives don’t know of the ones pulling through your strings,” the werewolf said. It howled as if it was trying to laugh but it sounded horrid. “I’m going to take you back to our base to dissect you and see how the Storytellers gave you those freakish powers. If you should survive and by luck meet your masters, tell them so long as I, Geegornoff N’Shash, is here, all of their plans will fall to ruin.”

End of Flashback

“Now I remember! N’Shash said you were pulling the strings.”

“We like to think of ourselves as guides.”

“She also said you gave us powers.”

“In a sense, yes. We Storytellers have special powers that most other beings in the universe don’t. We manipulate cause and effect using a technique you humans call chaos theory. With chaos theory, we set into motion events that lead to the results we want.” Then I thought about my brother T.J. and how we were able to stay together after my dad, Theodore Williams, died.

Flashback

"T.J., what happened to your hand," said Rita as she held T.J.'s injured hand in hers.

"Oh, that. You know Governor Styler, right?"

"How can't I with Naomi bragging all the time about being his granddaughter?"

"Well, I was on the way home from my new job when this limo caught on fire. I saved the owner and chauffeur. Guess whose limo was it."

"Naomi’s granddad?"

"Yeah. Me and him talked on our way to the hospital. He told me he's going to make it so I can adopt you, and we can stay together."

"But he's not the governor anymore."

"Guys like Styler can still get stuff done even if they're out of office."

Rita shuffled her feet along the floor. "What about, you know, Naomi?"

"The old man wasn't too happy about it, but he also said she was a brat," T.J. chuckled, "and he'd never let Naomi get away with it if she was his daughter and not his son's."

"T.J., did they know what caused the fire?"

"I think they said it was engine problems. The old man said it was given him trouble for about two years."

End of Flashback

“It was you who caused that limo to catch on fire and my brother to be there help Naomi’s grandfather.”

“Actually, all I did was to push an old lady into a mud puddle, though I looked like this at the time.” Mr. Impossible’s body morphed into a skinhead with more piercings than all the girls in my class had and back into Mr. Impossible.

“What?!?”

“The old lady, after being pushed in the mud puddle, called the police to have me arrested. The police car that came to arrest me almost struck a dog crossing the street. The police car stopped and was rear-ended by the car behind it. The tow truck driver that was suppose to pick up the police car stopped at a gas station and got in a fight with the cashier, who was his ex-wife causing one of his customers to leave the store to go to another. The person’s car ran out of gas on the road leading to a traffic jam about the time your brother was driving to the court house for your custody hearing. Oh did I mention the same tow truck driver side-swiped the limo that belonged to Naomi’s grandfather. The limo ran over an open manhole cover which knocked the gas line that fed fuel to the engine loose which would cause the limo to catch on fire while his car was stuck in the same traffic jam as your brother.”

“And you did all of that just by knocking an old lady into a mud puddle?”

“You humans call it the butterfly effect; an inconsequential event that set off a chain reaction leading to larger changes.” And I thought Punchline gave me a headache talking. I rubbed my throbbing head trying to take in everything Mr. Impossible told me. Storytellers, chaos theory; butterfly effect, it was getting to be too much for my mind to digest all at once. “It was also how I gave you and your friends your powers.” My heart skipped a beat, though I don’t know why. I sort of expected him being behind our powers.

Clear droplets swirled over Mr. Impossible’s open palm and coalescence into a transparent, rectangular shape. The shape grew more oblique and became a reddish-brown color. The surface of the box acquired texture and definition and it looked like the cover of a book. Then the spine and back of the book molded itself into the book. The cover was old tough leather as if the book was around a lot longer than ten seconds. Its pages were crinkled dried skin that had waved goodbye to its better days. It even smelled like old leather and aged paper.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s the focal point of our powers. And it takes any form that best suits the user.” The book faded into droplets and turned into a laptop and back into a book again. “With them, we can record and keep track of all of the changes made to the world by our powers.” He waved the book in front of me. “I materialized it for you to read.”

“Oh, sorry,” and I accepted the book but dropped it when the book flipped open on its own.

Mr. Impossible laughed. “Don’t worry, it won’t bite.” The book floated back into my hands.

I skimmed over the page and found what I expected Mr. Impossible wanted to show me. “Read this part?” I pointed to the third paragraph from the bottom of the page. He nodded his head.

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(continue on the nest post)

CrossoverManiac

03-07-2007, 08:44 PM

(continued from the last post)

Calvin was irritated by his mother’s spiteful rant. True to form, Edna Levy preached her brand of Fire and Brimstone to the picketers congregated outside of a construction site, though a sideshow carnival would make a better depiction. Some wore rubber masks of the president while others were blasts from the past and even smelled like the past or at least they smelled like they haven’t bathed since their tie-dyed shirts, hemp-woven vests, and bell-bottoms were in style. Calvin shook off the sweat drops off his mat of raven black hair and golden blonde roots showing at base of the scalp. He checked his digital watch. It read: March 18, 7:41 pm, which was maddening because Edith forewarned that the protest would go until at least 11 pm. No longer able to stomach her mother’s shrieking mike and her groupies, Calvin went to look for his identical twin save for the bad dye job, Kevin. Calvin circled around piles of steel beams and concrete blocks and mounds of dirt in search of his brother.

“Tag! You’re it!” Calvin’s heart skipped a beat, and his back arched when Kevin ran by and poked him along his spine.

“Kevin! I’m not getting in trouble with Edith!” Calvin didn’t see where his brother ran off to. “Kevin!”

“Over here!” Kevin ducked inside an underground stairwell. Calvin pursued him. The echoes of Kevin’s footsteps goaded him further. The hallway turned a corner down a winding path accompanied by a metal track three feet off the ground held up by posts spaced evenly along the hallway. “I’m waiting!” Kevin urged his brother on. A roomy cavern welcomed Calvin at the end of the hallway. There, he was greeted by his identical twin brother standing on what look like a giant iron pot not unlike the bubbling cauldrons in fairy tales except this caldron had a covering and a clear window inside. This caldron was a node point for the tracks that ran though it. Kevin was standing on top of it giggling. “Oh man,” he chuckled, “you found me.”

“Kevin, get down from there!” Calvin pointed his index finger to the ground.

“Gotta catch me first!” Kevin made like he was going to jump to the left.

“I’m not playing tag with you, so cut the crap.”

“But I’m bored, Calvin.” Kevin held one foot over the edge.

“I don’t care. Now get down off of that thing or else you’ll get us in trouble.”

“I’m not. You have to say ‘sorry’ for being a meanie head.”

“I’ll show you sorry.” Kevin’s legs were pulled out from under him. The cold iron shell leech the heat from Kevin who lay on his back while being towed by his pant legs. The boy land butt first on a control panel built into the vessel.

“That hurt!” Kevin protested.

“It’ll hurt twice as much if you don’t get down.” Calvin shift left and right; his arms tethered to Kevin’s leg, but as Kevin was being pried off the control panel, his movements clicked on some of the toggle switches. The instrument panel lights haphazardly flashed on and off. The underside in the track cast a phosphorous aurora along the hallway and was escorted by a high-pitch hum and the crackling of static electricity discharging from the vessel. Kevin, out of fear, bear hugged his brother and buried his head into Calvin’s shoulder.

“Let go of me,” Calvin wheezed out. It took all of his strength just to vocalize his desire for Kevin to release him from his death grip. Kevin positioned himself between the vessel and Calvin.

“Make it stop!” Kevin beseeched Calvin who was being constricted tighter inside of his embrace. The machine became brighter. The rays of light flowed around Kevin while the space around Calvin, who was in the wake of the flow, darkened.

Then the room burst in an electrical afterglow before waning. But as the light from the electric arc dissipated, the room was bathed in a steady white glow radiated from Kevin’s body for a few seconds before dying off.

“Are you okay, Calvin?” Kevin’s question was answered with several open-hand slaps on the side of the head.

“No, because you almost got us killed,” Calvin said tongue-lashing his irresponsible brother. “We’re probably got radiation poisoning. Now, beat it before we’re caught.” The twins hurried out of the room hoping not to get caught and never taking notice that Calvin’s shadow lagging behind.

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“Right this way.” A man in his 30’s sporting a lab coat with a red shirt and blue tie underneath opened the door for the parents of Seth Burrell. They were followed in by a brown-haired nurse in blue shirt and khakis and a white coat spotted with teddy bears of different colors.

Books lined the shelved behind the oak desk. The landscape of dogwood trees covered in white and red petals running parallel to a walkway exhibited through an open window to the right of the desk. A cool evening breeze snuck inside and nipped at Mrs. Burrell’s bare arms. She folded them just under her bosom to conserve heat.

“So, how’s Seth, Terry?” Seth’s mother asked in a sort of half-worried/half-enthusiastic tenor.

“Oh fine, sis,” the doctor smiled. He then noticed the calendar that read March 18th and ripped the page from it. Satisfied it was the correct date, he continued on with his preliminary. “The operation was a success. The vocal cords grown from Seth’s stem cells were graphed into his throat last night with no complications.”

Mrs. Burrell smiled at her younger brother. “So, he’ll be able to talk again? I haven’t heard my son’s voice in one month since the operation to take out the tumor in his throat.”

“Come and pick up him up next week.” The nurse behind his shoulder fidgeted at the mention of the operation.

“Why not today? I thought you said he would be in and out of the hospital.” Mr. Burrell did not hide his apprehension and distrust.

“My patients are given a few days to recover; a mere formality.” Seth’s father didn’t pay heed to his brother-in-law’s sweet words of reassurance but, instead, focused his glare at Lattimer’s anxious nurse.

“Now, this sort of procedure is experimental and not exactly legal.” Lattimer wagged his finger. “We have to keep this between just us, okay. Make especially sure Seth and Jake don’t talk.”

The nurse waited for the Burrells to leave before she confronted the doctor with her apprehensions. “Please, Dr. Lattimer, take that thing out of your nephew’s throat.”

“Thing?!?” Lattimer was indignant. “One little abnormality and my nephew have to spend the rest of his life as a mute?

“But doctor...” Lattimer silenced the nurse with a wave of his hand.

“If there’s a problem, the vocal cords go. Okay?” The nurse timidly nodded.

As doctor and nurse argued amongst themselves, Seth lay awake in a hospital room watching the TV set mounted on the wall. The screen was a blur of talk shows, infomercials, news, black and white reruns, and old cartoons. Seth clicked the remote on a quest to squelch the boredom of being bed-ridden. But there was no relief. He let the remote slip out of his hand, puffed his cheeks, and exhaled his dissatisfaction. His pillow was stuffed underneath his head. It was then that he took notice of the call button, which is pressed to signal the nurse if they were needed by the patients, on the bed railing.

Seth press down on the call button and called “Nurse, oh nurse!” When that didn’t seem to get their attention, Seth tapped his finger on the button as fast as he could and hard enough to rattle the bed.

The door swung open and banged against the wall. An angry male orderly stomped into the room. “You’d better be dying.”

“Yeah, of boredom; there’s nothing to do here.”

The male orderly in green shrubs stepped back to calm down before he’d do something to Seth that he’d (Seth) would regret. “You ain’t suppose to touch that unless it’s an emergency.” The orderly wagged his finger at Seth. “Now quitting acting a fool.”

“But I want something to do. Hey, how about that Game Dude?” Seth pointed to the portable video game in the orderly’s shirt pocket.

“That’s mine.”

“Let me play it. You’re gotta work anyway.”

“Don’t tell me what to do little boy. I’m the adult. Now pipe down!”

“Please!”

“Don’t make me call the front desk!”

“Lllllllllleeeeeeeetttttttttttttt mmmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeee hhhhhhhhaaaaavvvvvveeeeeeeee ttttttttthhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeee Ggggggggaaaaaammmmmmeeeeeeeee Dddddddduuuuuudddddddddeeeeeeee!” The murmur laid the orderly into a trance. “Llllllllllleeeeeeettttttttt mmmmmeeeeeeee ppppplllllllaaaaaaayyyyyyy iiiiiittttttttttttttt.” He reached into his shirt pocket and placed the Game Dude in Seth’s hand.

Seth didn’t know how or what even prompted him to use his power. All he knew was his hospital stay wouldn’t be as boring as he thought.

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Rita closed the book on her fingers to keep her place. “They didn’t undo the operation?”

“No,” Mr. Impossible answered, “Seth ‘talked’ them out of it, if you know what I mean.”

“Why Seth? Why not a good kid?”

“He was all I could come up with on short notice.”

“Did all of this happen on the same day?”

“As a matter of fact, yes: March 18th.”

“The day your father died? Yes.”

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

03-07-2007, 09:30 PM

(continued from the last post)

The shadows danced and reveled under the swaying light fixture above menacing the young boy in a hospital gown strapped down to his bed. The silhouette of the crude cold steel instrument clawed at the boy. Sweat beaded down his reddish-brown skin and dampened the mane of raven black hair. But none of the phantoms contained the malice of the Cheshire-grinned figure looming over the boy.

The figure, whose face was concealed in shadow, bent over the helpless child. The reflection of the light fixture flickered on the polished, silvery surface of the wand-like device with two prongs sticking out of it in a hand scarred by teeth marks. “Oh little John Doe, didn’t mommy tell you it’s not nice to bite?” The figure that taunted the boy spoke with a British accent. “Guess what time it is, little Johnny?” The boy did not answer. The figure kicked the medical table. “What time is it!”

“Please, no more, I’ll be good,” the boy cried.

“Fraid not, luv. You’re my guinea pig, and guinea pigs are for prodding and probing.” The figure glanced down and revealed herself as a woman in her late-twenties or early thirties with auburn hair as long as the boy’s and dressed in a lab coat. “See this, Johnny,” the lady waved the instrument in her hands as her hot breath blew over the boy’s face. “It’s the next generation in torture devices. A side effect of torture is that the subject can die if too much damage is done. But that’s a thing of the past.” The lady squeezed a trigger on the device. Between the prongs an electric arc jumped across it. “Don’t let appearances fool you, this isn’t a taser. It directly stimulates the neural pathways. It won’t leave a mark on the subject,” the instrument glided over the boy’s body, “but it still feels like the real thing.” She then tapped the sharp instruments sitting on the table parallel to the bed the boy was strapped down to. “But afterwards, I’m using the old fashion method. I have to compare the two to see if my device is as effective. You’ll be kind enough to tell me if there’s a difference, won’t you? I’d hate it you’d wind up like that bloody rabbit of yours. He’s waiting to die in the garbage bin as we speak.”

The boy struggled against his restraints. “I’ll make you pay for that!”

A malevolent laugh echoed over the room. “Psychological anguish; almost as good as physical pain. You only had yourself to blame, luv. All a smart boy like you have to do is help me develop my device. You don’t have a choice in helping me, and because you won’t help me build it, you’ll help me test it.” But to the woman’s surprise, the boy snapped though the leather restraint binding his right hand. His free hand smacked her across the cheek and knocked her over. In the moment she lost her balanced, the device fell on her face. The woman screamed in pain. Then the lights, not just inside the torture chamber, but the hallway flicked on and off. The boy unfastened his restraints and ran out of the hellish dungeon. Men in hospital orderly uniforms came running down through the hallway. The boy ducked into a doorway seconds before the orderlies caught up, who tried to pursue him, but couldn’t open the door.

“Damn!” One of the orderlies cursed. “The power failure triggered the lockdown system.”

It seemed as if luck was on the boy’s side. The electricity was out everywhere in the building except for the direction he was heading and only the doors that he needed to transverse were unlocked. The boy finally reached his destination. Against the chain link fence were some old weathered garbage bins. As the boy slammed the door on his way outside, the electricity went off and the door automatic locking mechanism clicked into action. The boy hastily foraged through each of the garbage bins until he found his only friend in the world. The tiny creature whimpered and twitched its foot. Its chest strained for each breath taken. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Whiskers, I’ll fix you right up, and then you’ll be good as new.” The boy climbed over the fence one-handed with the tiny rabbit nestled in the other.

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“Touching isn’t it?” Mr. Impossible said a little bit choked up over the heartfelt reunion.

“Not what he did to that rabbit!” I said. It wasn’t that sappy, at least to me it wasn’t.

“Lighten up.”

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An inmate couldn’t have asked for a prettier prison. The island, though too small to show up on a map, was spacious enough to accommodate one person. The walls weren’t cold steel chain link and razor wire, but the sapphire blue of the Pacific. There were no guards stationed except for the vast distance between the island prison and the freedom offered by dry land. The only other inmates incarcerated were the starfish that came in with the tide; five-point, six-point, and even one ten-armed and each one with a different colored spiny skin. And the prison itself was splendidly. Lush palm trees and exotic flowers painted in red, blues, and pinks. But no matter how beautifully adorned her prison was, it was still a prison to Golem.

The stone-skinned girl lost count at three for the number of times the sun came and went, not that she was counting. The only thing on her mind at the moment was revenge on her ‘father’, the Alchemist. He stranded her knowing she can’t swim due to her body density. Then it came. A seaplane, a plane with two pontoons on the bottom for water landings, heralded in by the hum of its propeller. It was difficult to make out visually in the glare of the afternoon sun.

“Down here!” Golem shouted at the heavens and flayed her arms around in the hope the plane would see or hear her. But the plane did not deviate from its course and went on its way.

“Stupid plane,” Golem cursed. She kicked a washed up log and sent it sailing into the stratosphere and in the direction of the seaplane. The log clipped its left wing. “Uh oh!” The seaplane, no longer obscured by the sun and could be easily distinguished by its yellow body and the red stripe running along the length of the fuselage, wobbled and then, when it steadied itself, spiraled around and headed for the island. A string of smoke tethered to the clipped wing traced a path in the sky. The seaplane skidded on the surface of the ocean. The landing wasn’t under the complete control of the pilot. The seaplane spun around twice and flipped over on its right wing, but the water was shallow enough that most of it was still above water.

Golem was torn. She wanted to help the people inside the plane, but there were still in water. She was afraid of going in too deep and drowning. But she took a deep breath and carefully waded into the water. Each step made her heart skip a beat. But before Golem could get to the plane, the passengers, a man and a woman in their late thirties, climbed out of the plane.

“Are you two okay?” Golem asked with a tint of guilt in her voice.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” said the woman. “Must have hit a really big sea gull?” The woman squinted and waddled over to Golem. She first looked her over as if she had to have a second look to confirm what she was seeing. The woman then took a quick look over her shoulder at the clipped wing. “Honey, are you okay?”

“I’m all in one piece, sweetie.”

“I’m sorry for crashing your plane, ma’am,” Golem apologized. “Now you’re stuck here with me.”

“Sorry for crashing us?!? You couldn’t have done anything to make us crash. Though we’re stuck here until help comes. Help is coming right?” The man didn’t answer right away. “Honey?”

“Just a minute,” said the man who was talking in the radio mike. “Yeah, the radio is still working. In fact, someone’s coming this way to pick us up in a few days.”

Golem was relieved. She hated knocking them out of the sky, but at least she can get off this sand barge in the middle of the Pacific.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

03-07-2007, 10:36 PM

(continued from the last post)

Rita asked rhetorically, “Golem and the Alchemist don’t really get along do they?”

Mr. Impossible shook his head. “Let’s just say the Alchemist took someone close to her.”

“Who?”

“I’ll let Golem tell you when she’s ready to open up to you.”

“I have a question.”

“Yes?”

I shouted, “if you have all this power and make these things happen, then how come my father’s dead? How come you gave the Metadelinquents powers, but you wouldn’t save your friend!”

Mr. Impossible sunk his head down. “To understand why I didn’t save Theodore, your father, you have to know why I became Mr. Impossible. We Storytellers are only allowed to interfere indirectly with the affairs of other races using chaos theory. We are never to involve ourselves directly and only enough for the, lack of a better term, good guys to win. But your world was different. There was a threat that could only be dealt with directly. And you know who that threat is.”

“The Alchemist.”

Mr. Impossible looked forward and folded his hands behind his back. “He was my most formable adversary. His mental powers were able to block out my telepathy; I couldn’t read his mind. And he had a sixth sense that could detect my use of chaos theory. He could always counter the chain of events I set into play to stop him and even hurt those I sent to defeat him. I could no longer stand by and watch. I took the form of Mr. Impossible in the hopes that I wouldn’t be caught. And in the event that I was, I trained a replacement that I could pass on some of my powers to when he was old enough.”

“Dad.”

Mr. Impossible nodded. “Even if I was caught some day, he would carry on my work, but he wasn’t ready for the powers by the time the other Storytellers found out. I had no other choice but to flee Earth. I hopped from galaxy to galaxy to escape retribution.” Mr. Impossible fixated on the crowd. “But one of us got tired of looking and let the word out that my pupil would suffer in my place, and the Storyteller used chaos theory to set into motions the events leading to the death of an innocent being.” His demeanor was grave. It was then I realized what happened. Justin only killed my father because one of them arranged to make it happen. I lost my father because of them. They were the real killers. Justin and his goons were only their dupes.

“WHICH ONE OF YOU DID IT!” I shrieked to the top of my lungs. “WHICH ONE OF YOU KILLED MY FATHER!”

“Rita, calm down.” Like hell I am! “And what would you do if your father’s killer came forward?” I stopped in my tracks. “Would you commit murder? Would your father want you to do that? Is that how you honor his memory?”

“And why didn’t you stop them?” I was crying again. It was too painful to bottle up my tears. “You’re so powerful. Why didn’t you stop them?”

“It was too late to save your father. The chain of circumstance was set in motion, and the Storyteller that did so was as powerful as me. But I was able to save you and give you a power to save the world. Then I did the same with the others and brought them to you.” Mr. Impossible pulled me against his chest. His hands caressed my back as my face nuzzled against his bulky chest. His costume soaked up my tears.

“Rita,” I pulled away to hear Mr. Impossible more clearly, “I didn’t want to bring you here and tell you the awful truth of your father’s demise, but, not just for your own sake, but for the sake of the world and, especially T.J. The Alchemist is the most dangerous foe you have ever faced. He eluded capture from even me. But you have an advantage that I don’t. You have Golem.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” I wiped the tears with my forearm and cleared my throat. “Golem is pretty powerful.”

“No, that’s not it at all. Golem’s strength is a great asset, but even greater is her knowledge of the Alchemist. Go to her and learn from everything she knows of the Alchemist. Use that knowledge and bring an end to his criminal empire once and for all.” The Storytellers lined up into two rows side-by-side and Mr. Impossible and I was in the middle. “It’s time for you to go.” A vortex opened. “I wish you the best of luck. I did as much as I could, but from here on out, you must make your own destiny.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Rita, there is but one punishment for the crime of direct interference, and that’s death.”

“No,” I pleaded.

“They brought you here as my last request.”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair!” I tried to open a portal, but my powers wouldn’t work. “What’s wrong?” I closed my eyes and concentrated. “Why won’t it open?”

“Rita, the vortex generator inside your body is Storyteller technology. They have total control over it.”

My hand stretched out to my father’s childhood hero; no, not just his hero, he was our hero. “Haven’t you taken enough from me already?” I took a hold of his waist and held on top.

“Let go.”

“No!”

“They will kill you too if you keep interfering.” I loosen my grip. “It’s too late to save me but not your brother.” Mr. Impossible faced me. “It’s time for you to leave.” The visage of the man that I knew as Mr. Impossible molded by invisible hands, an extra arm came out of his chest, an extra leg grew out of his back, and his head stretched out, until his form was that of the other Storytellers. “Good bye Rita,” he said telepathically. Two Storytellers stepped out of formation and led Mr. Impossible away. “Please leave. I don’t want you watching me die.”

I silently acknowledged his request with a nod and started to walk away. But as I was leaving, something caught my attention; a feeling of conceit and arrogance. The last time I felt it was from the Alchemist’s boasting; that same condescending aura that screams ‘I got one over on you’. It was then I noticed him. Don’t ask me how I knew its gender, but I just knew. He stood out from the others for two reasons: he had a dark patch around his eye that had a dark red line streaked across it diagonally like an eye patch and, while the other Storytellers stoically looked forward, he stared right at me. And at the very last second before I went through the portal, he winked at me and said in my mind...

“See you later.”

“It was you!” I called out the instant my body was pulled though. All I could think about on the return trip was him. He was my father’s real killer. Justin and his goons were his unwilling puppets. He set him up. Eyepatch! That’s what I called that monster; that thing. And it was at that point I made a vow. I’m not strong enough to beat him, and I may never be strong enough, but it won’t be from a lack of trying. My vow is to grow in strength and use it to avenge my father’s death.

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I didn’t know where I was. The portal exit did not appear in the park. I was in an alley between two brick buildings. So, I must have teleported into the city. I peered around the corner at the front of the buildings. From the scaffolds erected around their perimeters, saw dust, and left over electrical wiring, I’d say both offices were under renovation. Great, I’ve been spotted.

They, a boy and girl my age, looked homeless. They have to be dressed in those duds. The girl must have been sick. She was way overdressed for summer. Her gray woolen dress came down to her knees and didn’t go with old sneakers, even if they weren’t mismatched from two different pairs, and a long-sleeve, red and green Christmas sweater. Her hair was tucked underneath a baseball cap and the goggle sunglasses went out of style years ago. Yet, she was almost as pale as Punchline. The boy, he...isn’t so bad looking. In fact, he’s sort of cute: long black hair and reddish-brown skin and big almond eyes. Too bad his shirt was a My Little Horsy T-shirt or else he’d looked manlier.

That’s not good. Both of them headed my way. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tried to think up an explanation for the light show.

“Hiya bestest best friend Rita!” Oh crap! That isn’t who I think it is. It was. I was drooling over Punchline. Blah!

“What the heck are you doing out of costume!” I feel like taking a bath. I was drooling over Punchline. “And is that Golem?” I was drooling over @$%#& Punchline!

Golem frowned. “Yeah, Punchline painted my face.” And didn’t do a good job of it either! I didn’t even wear make-up, and I could have made her look normal.

“We’re in disguise.”

“But where have you been?”

“Mr. Whiskers got out, and Golem helped me look.”

“Have you found him?”

Golem nodded. “Munching out on leftovers from the butcher’s shop.” Well that explains the odor.

“But where have you been bestest best friend Rita?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right, I have to get the other Metadelinquents. We’re meeting at Punchline’s old place.”

“Golem?”

“I need your help, and you’re my only hope.”

“Want me to fetch Obi Wan for you?”

“I’m serious. I need to know everything there is about the Alchemist and the Agents of Deception.”

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End of Rita’s point of view

(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

03-07-2007, 10:42 PM

(continued from the last post)

Lieaceit, better known to the world as the voice of the free world Satoshi Nobuko, reclined, feet outstretched, on a park bench. Shading was provided by the burly and emotionless body guards beside him. The complexion of the bodyguards looked rubbery and almost like latex.

“Took you long enough?” Lieaceit said in a cheerful voice that was deliberately blatant in its insincerity to his ‘master’, the Alchemist, who just arrived after finishing his ultimatum to Rita Williams. “I thought maybe Rita did me a favor and got rid of you.”

The sardonic smile and the wrath and venom that it barely restrained would have cut down a lesser man, but then again, ‘lesser’ was a relative term that would just as easily mean ’99.9% of the population’. “You wish!” It was obvious that the Alchemist barely tolerated this overbearing youth, as gifted as he was.

“But then again, superheroes aren’t known for cold-blooded murder are they? It wasn’t like you were in any danger.” Lieaceit hopped off the bench. “And now, the world’s only superheroes are in your back pocket?”

“Not if they’re the saints they claim to be. I instructed their leader to signal me with a transmitter I passed along to her should she accept my offer and join my organization. If she does, you are to give the American president their real identities and to hunt them down to the ends of the earth.”

“Excuse me for asking, but shouldn’t you do that if the Metadelinquents *don’t join*.”

“I don’t do this for myself. I do this for Golem. She is my Holy Warrior; the one created by me to bring peace and justice to the world. And only the most virtuous humans will stand beside her. If these Metadelinquents are truly heroic, they will resist even under the threat of exposing their secret identities. Golem deserves only the best,” and then he said in a hush, remorseful tone, “which is more than I could ever give her.”

Lieaceit was moved by the Alchemist’s speech, though not in a positive way. Lieaceit laughed hysterically.

“What’s so funny?” The Alchemist snarled. His eyes gleamed in rage.

“You old man! ‘Golem deserves only the best, which is more than I could ever give her’. I knew you were pathetic, but this?” Lieaceit gave the Alchemist a thumb’s down. “You’re beyond any hope of being useful.”

The Alchemist breathed down Satoshi’s face as he looked down at the shorter man. “Don’t tempt me to end your sorry good-for-nothing excuse of a life!”

“Old man, I’m too much for you to handle. Should have listened to your flunky Pretty Poison and got rid of me when you had the chance.”

The Alchemist tapped his finger on his chest and then wagged it at the body guards. “Your powers have no effect or me or them. And you call me ‘pathetic’. Lies won’t save you, not today they won’t.”

Lieaceit slapped his forehead mockingly displaying his ‘stupidity’. “I forgot. My powers don’t work on freaks that are a couple of hundred years old and age backwards. And they don’t work on my android babysitters, either.” It was then Lieaceit snapped his fingers. The bodyguards seized the Alchemist. “But they do work on the humans that built the androids.” Lieaceit confidently strutted in front of his captive, plucked off the badge/family seal, and then unfastened his control gauntlets from around his forearm. “I mean, what’s the point of constructing android bodyguards if I...still...can...get...to...the...programmers.” The Alchemist wrenched with each blow to the stomach from Lieaceit’s fist.

“Don’t think,” the Alchemist cough and gasped for the wind knocked out of his lungs, “you won.” Lieaceit stole the Alchemist’s black medicine bag from his tunic pocket. “No, anything but that.”

“I wonder, just how far will you regress. Will you stop at pre-school? The terrible two’s? Newborn? Or will you just shrink back into nothingness.” Lieaceit pointed to a black van parked nearby, and the two android bodyguards complied and dragged the Alchemist off with them.

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Well, that’s a shocker right there for you. As Rita plans out the last hope for our young heroes, Lieaceit is seizing power for himself. Can Rita save the Metadelinquents and their secret identities and what drastic measures will she have to take? And what importance does the Alchemist’s medication hold? Find out on the next installment of Metadelinquents.

Note: I have done a retcon on the origin of Mr. Whiskers. Originally, I stated he was ran over by a car before being cloned (albeit one that had genetic modifications). In this version, Mr. Whiskers is turned into a monster rabbit after being tortured by Punchline’s so-call psychologist.

CrossoverManiac

03-07-2007, 10:49 PM

Metadeliquents 18: The Metadeliquents vs. the Agents of Deception-Will Justice Prevail?
Metadeliquents is the property of Timothy Weaver a.k.a. CrossoverManiac,

“Yo Cal, come on out,” said a voice calling from outside. Calvin Levy greeted his visitors: the local troop of Goths that he hung out with. Now, it’s a common misconception that all Goths dye their hair black. Nothing could be further from the truth. The white middle school girl in black tank top T-shirt and black jeans hanging on her bald African-American boyfriend dyed blue highlights into her bobbed hair. Another girl, who was a bit older and wore a black dress and fishnet gloves, had dark purple hair reaching down the small of her back. A second boy, closer to Calvin’s age, had a patch of red on his ebony mane. The other three adolescents did, however, have all black hair.

“Reggie, what brings you here?” Calvin asked the African-American Goth.

“Heard you got too good for us.” Reggie mocked. A silver nose ring dangled between his nostrils and another ring from his lower lip from the tall and lanky youth.

“Edith’s been all over the place saving the world from corporate America.”

“She sounds cool.” The middle school girl said and coiled around her boyfriend and snuggled up to him.

Calvin laughed in distain. “Wanna trade moms?” The others laughed. “Come on let’s get outta here.” Calvin pushed through the Goths and gestured to them to follow him. “Well, ain’t you comin’?”

“What’s the rush?” The boy with the red patch of red hair asked.

“He doesn’t want his lame bro taggin’ along,” the girl in the dress answered. “Heard he sleeps with a night light.” Everyone laughed except for Calvin who was ashamed of his immature twin.

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The local hardware store is the very last place on the Goths’ list of places to hang out, but unlike the others, they haven’t been chased away for loitering...yet. The front of the hardware store next to the soft drink machines became their new meeting spot, and they marked their territory with empty can after empty can of soft drinks. A woman in her 30’s with her toddler girl cuddled in her arms waived carefully around them and not wandered in too close. The boy with the red patch of hair headed her off.

“Hey lady, how about a loan? I’m thirsty too,” the boy hit the woman up for cash. The woman, instead, backed away and hurried into the hardware store.

“Yo, Mark,” Reggie said in a cross tone, “cool it or else we’d get kicked outta here too.”

“I just asked her for a little pocket change! God, you’re like my mom.”

“You’re going to get us ran off here too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “That time wasn’t my fault.”

“Like she’s going to call the cops on us.”

“Hey guys,” Calvin pointed to the edge of the parking lot. Four police cars drove into the parking lot and stopped in front of the children. They were followed by a green humvee and an 18-wheeler. The car doors highlighted the unison of the uniformed policemen by opening simultaneously. The cops overshadowed the teenagers with their hand propped over their gleaming pistols.

“I wasn’t going to hurt that lady I swear!” Mark stuttered.

The driver of the humvee pushed his considerable bulk off from the side of the humvee and made it wobble as the shock absorbers were relieved of their considerable burden. Though he had a bit of a beer gut put on by age going by the receding pepper hairline and rough leathery profile, he was not fat at all but was a man of mammoth statute. The medals and ribbons were garnished on his voluminous chest. He motioned to some of the policemen to go into the store.

The old major was a hungry lion prowling around the teenagers glaring sternly in their faces. “Now what the hell are you kids doing out here?”

The purple-haired girl pointed to Mark. “He’s the one bothering that lady. We’re just minding our business.”

“Snitch!” Mark yelled.

“Well, I got bad news for you,” the old major snarled, “you’re all in trouble. There’s a 24-hour curfew for everyone under the age of 18. No children outside without being accompanied by an adult.”

“What!” The Goths said in unison.

“That’s lame.” Reggie protested.

“You said it.” Calvin agreed. The others, however, were intimidated into silent compliance.

“Pipe down!” The old major ordered rather loudly. “And for breaking curfew, you’re getting a little medical exam to see if you’re human.” The old major thumped the purple-haired girl’s nose ring. “Though I have my doubts.”

“Get your hands off my girl!” Reggie slapped his hand away, but the old major was rather quick, retracted his arm, reached around, gripped Reggie by the forearm. The old major dug his fingers into his flesh. Reggie grimaced and yelped out in pain. “Let go of me,” he squealed.

“Oh a tough guy huh,” the old major sneered. Reggie pulled away but he was held fast by the tree-trunk thick meat hooks. “You can go first.”

You’re getting a little medical exam to see if you’re human. Those words exploded in Calvin’s brain. Could they uncover their secret identities with a test? He wasn’t going to stay and find out. Calvin gradually extended his shadow. It listlessly flowed beneath the old major and then circled his knees, but without touching. And as Reggie pulled against the old major, the shadow tightened like a noose and whipped the old major’s legs tripping him over.

“Let’s get outta here!” Mark cried. The Goths, Calvin included scattered in all directions as the old major picked himself up.

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The mad dash to the safety of home was a tour of Hell itself. Calvin was lucky not to be noticed by the authority figures that were one time, at worst, an annoyance but now filled him with dread. A girl was being pulled by her shirt into a squad car by a cop who looked like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings on steroids. The horrid balding brute must have been a cousin to the old major, only ten times uglier. Worse, the Gollum-nator was enjoying himself way too much; that pervert. If his tongue hung any lower, he could mop floors with it. Another Neanderthal, this one in camouflage like the old major hauled off a kindergartner in each hand.

After a ten-minute sprint, Calvin, flustered and short-winded, made it to the house. He bent over to catch his breath when a hand reached from inside and lead him in.

“Calvin, where’ve you been?” Kevin asked as his body sprung up and down in anticipation. “I’ve been looking all over the neighborhood for you.”

Calvin twisted his lips in annoyance. “None of your business, pest!”

Kevin pouted. “You’re so mean!”

“You’re so stupid! Now, whadda want?”

“It’s not me,” said Kevin who was pulling down the shades and switching the lights off. “It’s Rita.” Then Kevin spoke into a walkie-talkie with a horrid vestige of a deranged clown with sharpen teeth and yellow eyes engraved on the front. “I pulled the shades like you asked.” Then a portal opened inside the house, and Rita, in her Gatekeeper costume, stepped though.

“Oh no!” Calvin refused. “We’re not Metadelinquents anymore! I don’t wanna get locked up for something I didn’t do.”

“Calvin, they know our secret identities. We’re in trouble even if we do nothing.”

“Who does?”

“I’ll explain later. Now get in.”

Reluctantly, Calvin followed Rita though.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-19-2007, 08:34 PM

(continued from the last post)

“It’s creepy!” It was the first words that came to Kevin’s mind when they came out the other side. The stalagmites and stalactites dangling on the floor and ceiling were jagged teeth and the cavern was the inside of the mouth of a fearsome mythical beast that, at any moment, will clamp its jaw down on the unsuspecting morsels that wandered inside. The makeshift lighting only made the eeriness worse. Shadows danced to the hum of what looked like an electric generator. And the air was moist and sour with the odor of a wet dog.

“This way,” Rita gestured. She guided them though the turns and nooks to the end of the cave. The other Metadeliquents huddled around a lamp as if it was a campfire.

Rita removed her hood and mask and brushed away from the sweat from her hair. “Listen up. I told you already someone knows our secret identities.” As Rita was speaking, Punchline held his head down to hide the guilt on his face.

“You’re kidding!” Calvin stomped his foot in outrage. Seth tried to respond as well but could only mumble through his mouth gag.

“The Alchemist used the portal tracker to find out who we are.” Punchline was awestruck and somewhat relieved. “If we don’t agree to be his little slaves in one week, he’ll tell the world who we are, and that was five days ago.”

“Oh man!” Kevin said. “Two more days and we’re in big trouble.”

“No we won’t be, and you know why?”

“We’ll do what he tells us?” Calvin deadpanned.

“Oh no, we’re not!” Rita was irritated at Calvin for even suggesting such a thing. “Because we know his secrets too right Golem.”

All eyes, even those of the bound and gagged Seth Burrell. “Osric wouldn’t trust just any body with your secret identities. He only trusts his little pets, the Agents of Deception.”

“And all we have to do is catch them and the Alchemist.”

Calvin scoffed at Rita’s plan. “And how are we’re suppose to do that? We don’t even know where to look.”

“Like I said, Golem knows all of the Alchemist’s secrets.”

Golem showed a print out of a middle-age man in oversized bifocals and a helmet haircut. At the bottom of the paper was an address. “Shifter lives in Silicon Valley and he’s posing as Will Fence.”

“Whoa! Edith was right! Will Fence is evil!” Kevin said in astonishment.

Calvin was skeptical. “And how can you tell the difference between Shifter and the real Will Fence?”

“The real Will Fence is dead; Shifter killed him. The Alchemist told him to do it so that he would make computers that the Alchemist could hack into anytime he wanted.”

Gatekeeper slapped her hand on Punchline’s shoulder. “Shifter can change his shape, but not his scent. That’s why you and Mr. Whiskers are going after him. No matter what he looks like, Mr. Whiskers will sniff him out.” She then pointed to herself. “Because I’m a girl, I’m going after Pretty Poison. Her powers are useless on me. And tell them where she’s hiding, Golem?”

“Any of you heard of Yucca Mountain?”

Kevin waved his hand around like a school boy eager to be called upon the teacher for the right answer. “Edith said it’s a pretty mountain that the corrupt corporate-controlled government destroyed so they could dump nuclear waste there,” Kevin mimicked with the precision of a parrot.

“Well, tell *Edith* she’s got it all wrong. Yucca Mountain is a secret military bunker underground. They test top secret weapons and hide the President when he’s in trouble. The nuclear waste gets dumped at Area 51. Osric bragged about it all of the time; said that the government could never pull the wool over his eyes.

“You’re not going there by yourself, bestest best friend Rita,” said a concerned Punchline.

“I have to, you boys can’t control yourselves.” Calvin was not very pleased with Rita’s comment and pouted.

“But what about Golem? She’s not a boy.”

“No, she and the twins are going after Hologram Man. He’s with Diamond Joe, and we can tell because Diamond Joe keeps disappearing and reappearing out of no where. It’s all over the news. They think he got himself a new superpower. But we know better don’t we?” Rita addressed Golem.

“Hologram Man is a big chicken. He never works alone, and before he hooked up with the Alchemist, he was a magician. Making stuff disappear is his thing.”

“Calvin and Kevin, Hologram Man’s yours. Golem’s your cover against Diamond Joe.”

Rita then strolled over to Seth. “Seth,” she called out, but he paid no heed to her. “Seth, look at me when I’m talking.” Rita stooped down to his eye level. “Look, the Agents of Deception knows who you really are, and, if we don’t have your help, we can’t beat them. Do you want to go to jail for the rest of your life? Well, do you?” Seth shook his head. “Are you going to help us?” Seth nodded. “Good,” Rita cheerfully spoke and untied the gag around Seth’s mouth.

“This is the last time I play superhero with you, Rita.” Seth wasted no time voicing his defiance.

“Fine, this is your last mission, but I’ll give you a warning: use your powers to break the law, and you can be bunk mates with the Alchemist. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. From what Golem tells me, Lieaceit is the only Agent of Deception the Alchemist doesn’t completely trust. So he stays nearby to keep a watch over him. Catch Lieaceit and the Alchemist at the same time. Your voice power might be able to counter Lieaceit’s.”

“Hey Einstein,” Seth said condescendingly, “whacha going to do with them after we catch’em? They’ll tattle on us as soon as they’re in jail.”

“We’re not taking them to jail. See this cave here. It’s 500 feet underground and no entrance to the surface except my portal. In fact, Punchline found this cave with his inventions. The Alchemist and his Agents are going to spend the rest of their lives here. We’ll keep them fed and give them water, but they’re not leaving; not ever.”

Kevin was distraught. This new dark side to Rita was troubling to the most innocent member of the team. “But Rita,” he pleaded, “that isn’t right.”

“Is it right for the Alchemist to hurt our family? If the world knew who we were, we’ll be the ones in jail, and guys like D.K. and Red Harpy will hurt our families. I’m not letting that happen.” Rita clinched her fist. “We’re burying the Alchemists and his Agents of Deception alive.”

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A white speck buzzed a flock of finches perched on a tree and compelled the hapless birds to make a hasty retreat from the cover of green leaves. The white pitted globe rolled down an incline and disappeared behind a long row of dark green shrubs that spanned the perimeter of the west side of the golf course. Three men bearing golf bags strolled over the resting place of the golf ball. Two of the men looked around for the ball while the third was conversing on his cellphone. That third man was Shifter in the form of Will Fence.

“Will, toss the phone. It’s your turn,” one of the men, who was dark-skinned and had one eye that was a lifeless oblique tint and the other hazel, scolded.

Will Fence waved him off. “I’m almost done.” He then resume his business call. “What do you mean the Pentagon has issues with our software?...Well, that’s just too bad because we’re the only company that can program their supercomputers.”

“Hey,” said the second man who was lighter in complexion than Ron and had a mustache, “put down that %@&$ phone or go back to the office. I’m here to play golf.”

Shifter cupped the transceiver in his hand. “In a second,” and continued his conversation. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, tell those yahoos at the Pentagon...” The dimpled golf ball that the three sportsmen were seeking flew right into Shifter’s hand. Out of reflex, he dropped the phone and caught the ball in the palm of his hand. Then suddenly, Mr. Whiskers leaped from behind a tree. The giant mutant rabbit roared and flashed his foot-long, jagged incisors. Shifter’s business associates fell over in shock. Their bodies froze in place. Only their eyes divulged the terror the two men felt.

Punchline waved to Shifter from on top of Mr. Whiskers’ back. “Remember me ‘cause I remember you and the dirty tricks your friends played on us.” Punchline pulled out his clown hammer and leveled it at Shifter. “And its payback time. Mr. Whiskers, kill’em boy.” The giant hare revved up on two legs and swapped at Shifter like a bear. Shifter ducked at the last fraction of a second, but Mr. Whiskers’ paw came close enough that the air current from the swipe ruffled Shifter’s hair. Shifter changed back into the cheetah form he used to escape earlier and ran into a field of heavy grass until he blended into the undergrowth.

“Go get’em Mr. Whiskers,” the clown ordered. Mr. Whiskers hopped after him.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-19-2007, 08:43 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Waiter!” Felipe Jose Marconi a.k.a. Diamond Joe bellowed. He reclined back in his chair with his feet on the table. “Whose bones must I crumble to dust to get any service here?” The young waiter hastily stepped over broken tables and chairs while balancing a lobster, a wine bottle, and a cup of black beads on a silver platter.

“Here’s your order: one Maine lobster, 1873 vintage Chambre des Ordures champagne, and one serving of poissons d'or caviar.” The waiter hyperventilated from the anxiety of provoking the ire of the glittering muscle-bound thug parading as a man of class. If he sweated anymore, he would have left a stream between the kitchen and dining room.

“This had better be good if you want to live long enough to see puberty.”

The waiter broke down and cried. “I can’t. The chef, he passed away and I don’t know how to cook.” The waiter’s body shivered from the chill down his back.

“When?”

“Right after you got here.”

“You expect Felipe to poison himself on food prepared by a peasant!” Diamond Joe sneered. The waiter ran to the side and somehow managed to navigate through the smashed furniture lining the floor. “That’s right. Run! Run from Feli...” Felipe found out the waiter wasn’t running from him, albeit the hard way. A heavy object crashed into the back of Diamond Joe’s head hard enough to knock him off his chair and on the floor. A trail of broken floor tiles traced Diamond Joe’s path through the wall, demolished upon impact, and into the kitchen. Diamond Joe flipped the cumbersome weight off of him, and, to his surprise, the object that struck him was a stretch limousine. He peered through both the fissure through the wall separating the kitchen from the dining room leading outside and glimpsed Golem with hands on her waist.

“I know you like riding in style, so I gave you a ride,” Golem bragged.

“You ugly little freak!” Diamond Joe kicked the limousine over. The restaurant structure, unable to withstand the ongoing punishment, gave way. Defiantly, Diamond Joe didn’t flinched when the concrete and steel beams collapsed and avalanched him.

Golem tapped her foot impatiently. “Is he dead?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be stupid, Dawn,” Calvin huffed.

“No, he’s just old. Old people are slow.” Golem didn’t address Kevin but directed her comment to the lump underneath the pile of stone and twisted metal.

Then Diamond Joe exploded out of the debris. He inspected his designer shirt. Much to his dismay, the collapse of the building soiled and rend his shirt beyond any hope of repair. With a growl, he tore it off and bore the muscle undershirt and bodybuilder physique hidden underneath.

“You know how much that cost!” Diamond Joe snarled as the tattered shirt dangled from his fist.

“As if you paid for it,” Golem rebuffed. She gestured to Dawn and Dusk who were both half a block away. “Now how about showing those two where to find Hologram Man.”

“I have a better idea.” Diamond Joe spread out his arms to his private audience of three, and a troop of showgirls, in black coat and tux and net stalking, paraded by. Two showgirls hid Diamond Joe behind a curtain. Four showgirls walked around the curtain, but some unknown reason, five came out. “Now you see me.” The showgirls dropped the curtain, and Diamond Joe was no longer there. “Now you don’t.”

Golem scanned the area for Diamond Joe. Instead, only the newly formed scores of onlookers did Golem see. “Come out and face me, chicken!”

“Why should I? Not when I have the advantage.” Diamond Joe’s voice was heard within the crowd, but the jewel encrusted villain remained indiscernible.

Golem waved at the crowd. “Beat it! You’re in the way!” The crowd was unresponsive. Then a finger tapped Golem on the shoulder. She heard the tapping, turned, and saw a blue-haired old lady in a flowery dress. The old woman revved back her fist and struck Golem in the chest. The impact hoisted Golem into the air and sent her whizzing pass the mob. The echo from the punch thundered though the street and back alleys followed by the sound of stone shattering as Golem crashed into a brick wall. Golem spent a moment getting back her bearing. As she did, the old woman waved to Golem and, in a split second, her image rippled and faded into Diamond Joe. She ducked back into the crowd and faded into the crowd.

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Yucca Mountain

The Marine Corp MP displayed his discipline and unwavering resolve and did not flinch from the daunting stare of his boss, the President of the United States, the undisputed commander-in-chief of all the armed forces.

“And what part of ‘stay here and guard Ms. Sullivan’ you don’t understand, you glorified jarhead!”

“But Mr. President, my first duty is to protect you. I must refuse your order, sir.”

Natalie Sullivan, who, in reality, was Pretty Poison, grasped the hand of both the President and the Marine. “Please, don’t fight over me. I couldn’t sleep if I know I caused any trouble.” She massaged the Marine’s forearm in her hands in order to rub her lovesickness-inducing pheromones on his skin.

The President gazed lovingly at Pretty Poison. “Don’t blame yourself, Natalie.” Then he shot the same pitiless glance at the Marine as before, “this new guy doesn’t want to take orders.”

“You’re right,” said the Marine apologetically, though at the President but at Pretty Poison. “She’s too important to leave unguarded. I’ll sacrifice my life for you,” he vowed passionately to Pretty Poison.

“That’s better,” the President smiled before he took noticed of the way the Marine ogled Pretty Poison. He dragged him off to the side and said, “and guarding Ms. Sullivan is all you’re doing. Comprende!” It was then the alarm went off. The President hustled to the security station. “What’s going on?” The MP manning the monitors pointed to the one in the far right corner. In black and white, the imagine of Gatekeeper materialized before them. “Order the MP’s to put her under arrest, and I don’t care how young she is, if she resist, shoot to kill.”

The MP saluted. “Yes, sir.” He switched on the intercom. “Intruder alert. I repeat: intruder alert. Intruder is identified as a Metadelinquent. Squad Alpha and Squad Bravo, place the intruder under arrest and shoot to kill if there is any resistance.”

About twenty-five men, decked out in flak jackets, green camouflaged jumpsuits, and gas masks appeared to be little more than minuscule toy soldiers against the backdrop of the five-story tall cavern and the equally lofty gray steel hangar door, which beg the questions: what monstrosity dwelled inside.

“Take cover, take aim, and fire on my order,” the major commanded. The two platoons hiked in step towards the entrance of the tunnel. When they reached the end of the cavern, they splintered off into groups of three and four and took cover behind barricades and shipment trucks and aimed their rifles at Gatekeeper. From Rita’s viewpoint, there was dozens of assault rifles zeroed in on her.

“Metadelinquent,” the major called out to Rita in a grabbled voice, “place your hands on top of head and surrender. If you do not comply within five seconds, we will open fire.” But before they had a chance to follow through with their threat, portals opened above their heads. The MP’s rifles were snatched from their hands, some of them were hoisted so violently, the MP’s that held on to them was lifted into the air before they lost their grip. They were followed by gas masks, helmets, and belts buckles that were torn off the soldiers and flung upward. For on the other side of the portal were the huge electromagnets used in junkyards to lift cars. Once the MP’s were disarmed, the portals closed shut leaving them completely unarmed.

“She’s just one little girl,” the major screamed. “Rush her!” Immediately, two portals, about a foot across, materialized on each side of Rita. She pulled out electric police batons. Portals appeared in front of the MP’s, and Rita jabbed the batons through the portals and into the MP’s starting with the ones in front of the platoon. The soldiers instantly dropped to the ground as their bodies twisted by muscle spasms one by one. Some of the soldiers tripped over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Rita opened a portal running horizontal to the ground and drove her electric prod into the soldiers on the ground. Another one, out of desperation, picked up a rock and threw it at Rita only to have her use it against him when she teleported back at him. The soldier was knocked unconscious by his own rock. Within one minute, the two squads of Marines had fallen.

Gatekeeper opened a portal over one of the immobilized soldiers and grabbed his security clearance card. She looked on the back and observed the bar code printed on the back. Gatekeeper teleported at the end of the tunnel to a door with a bar code scanner next to it. She ran the card through the scanner, and the door unbolted. “Just like Golem said,” Rita said quietly to herself.

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(continue on the next post)

CrossoverManiac

08-19-2007, 08:52 PM

(continued from the last post)

“Oh he’s so cute!” The female police officer admired the boy, about five or six years old, resting blissfully in Satoshi/Lieaceit’s lap as they rocked back and forth on the porch swing. The lad curled up and relaxed his head on Lieaceit’s chest. “I hope mine are half this sweet.” She kneeled down and combed the boy’s unkempt tangle of hair with her fingers. Her gentleness and motherly gesture softened the Spartan demeanor set off by the M-16 strapped to her shoulder and held steady by her free hand.

“You wouldn’t say that if he was awake,” Lieaceit laughed.

“Oh, they’re all like that.”

“Say that again.” A passing convoy of military humvees and trucks roared by and drowned the police officer out.

“I said all kids are like that, you know, only good when they’re asleep. By the way, how can he sleep with a Marine division just outside?”

“I injected him with tranquilizers.” Lieaceit’s expression was grave with a stare cold enough to chill fire. “Just kidding,” and instantly, his mannerism became jovial.

The woman let out a slight snigger and then chuckled loudly at the silly prospect of taking Satoshi serious. But then, her attention turned to a strange humming noise followed by something on her back vibrating. She slid her M-16 off her arm and felt it rattle in her hand and shaking more and more violently until she could no longer grip the rifle. She dropped it and it and, what seemed like a delayed reaction, the M-16 broke apart. It was then she noticed every vehicle, both military and civilian, shaking violently as well and falling apart at the scenes. Tires fell off their axles and cars on the road slid to a stop with their wheels, and seconds later, the car bodies came apart followed by their engine blocks one piece at a time. The street and driveways of the once peaceful and affluent suburb was cluttered with car parts. When the humming stopped, Deathtone leaped off the porch roof.

“Opera singers can shatter glass with their voice, but I can do the same with just about anything, even steel,” Deathtone stated proudly. “Now about coming with me, Lieaceit. Cccccccooooooommmmmmeeeee wwwwwwiiiiiiiiittttttthhhhhhh mmmmmmmeeeeeee!!!!!!!”

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“It’s a monster!” A beach blanket beauty in a two-piece bikini screamed and pointed to Mr. Whiskers and Punchline who were heading her way. She grabbed her dumbfounded boyfriend and ran for their lives. Soon, others followed suit and a stampede of panicking humanity scampered along the shoreline. But only one of them had to fear the clown and his pet. Mr. Whiskers leaped ahead of them and cleared the crowd with ample space leftover, turned around, and seized one of the beach-goers, this one was an overweight elderly woman in a one-piece bathing suit, by the arm and shook her.

“Please, let me go,” Shifter begged in the voice of an old woman. “I have grandchildren.”

Punchline shook his finger at Shifter. “Shame on you for telling fibs. Now Mr. Whiskers is going to gobble you up.”

Shifter changed form again, this time a cross between a giant anaconda and a king cobra. He must have been over 30 feet long and over a foot thick. Shifter curled up and opened his teeth sporting his elongated fangs.

“Fool,” Shifter spat, “you should be serving the Alchemist. It’s not too late to pledge your allegiance to him.”

“What’s next? Apples from the forbidden tree?” The irony of being tempted by Shifter in snake form wasn’t lost to Punchline.

“Then how about I teach you what happens to those that stand in the way of the Alchemist?” Shifter struck with the speed of a whip and almost struck Punchline who shifted his weight at the last second to the left. Shifter struck again, but Punchline shifted to the right. Shifter struck a third time, but this time, instead of dodging, Punchline connected his fist into Shifter’s nose. The shapeshifter coiled back from the shock. Mr. Whiskers yanked his head back and drove Shifter’s head into the beach again and again beating his imprint to the sand. Then spines came of Shifter’s body. Mr. Whiskers yelped in pain from being suck in the mouth and spat Shifter out. As Mr. Whiskers rubbed the inside of his mouth with his paw, Shifter turned into his giant eagle form. As he flew off, his leg was tangled up in confetti with Punchline on the other end. And the two of them were airborne.

Shifter was breathing more and more heavily. He glanced down at the buildings and people. Judging by their apparent size, they were pretty far up. They were even about the multi-story condos that were in the area. “Let go or you’ll kill us both.”

“Are you kidding?” Punchline retorted. “Wee! This is fun!” Punchline shifted his weigh and was swinging from side to side.

“Stop it or we’ll crash!” Sure enough, by swinging from the confetti, Punchline was unbalancing Shifter and making his flight unsteady. Shifter, not wanting to die, descended into a vacant lot a mile down from the beach. As they came down, Punchline pulled a tiny anchor out of his tenchcoat and tied it to the confetti. When they hit the ground, the anchor dug into the ground. The tension on the confetti yanked on Shifter’s leg and forced him to the ground.

“Oh boy! I got a pet turkey!” Punchline clapped.

“Is that so? I thought I was your psychiatrist.” As Shifter spoke, he took the form that awoken the fears submerged deeply in Punchline’s mind. The creeping terror curled its tentacles around his soul, and now Punchline’s body was petrified by the cold chill running down his spine. Shifter picked the form that would overwhelm the fragile mind of his opponent: the woman who tortured Punchline within the dingy walls of the insane asylum. “Did you actually think escape was possible?”

Punchline shook his head violently. “No, it’s not you. It can’t be!”

Shifter backhanded the stunned Punchline. “You silly little boy.” Shifter imbedded half of his foot right into Punchline’s gut and drove his diaphragm into his lungs. Punchline choked and gargled from the sudden loss of air that he struggled to inhale back in with each strained pant. Shifter, in the form of Punchline’s psychiatrist, cackled arrogantly. “Where’s your little pet bunny, luv?” Shifter grasped a handful of Punchline’s hair and hoisted him up only to impel a closed fist into his mouth. Dark red, viscous blood oozed from the busted lip. “Now be a good little boy, and your doctor won’t have to hurt you.”

Punchline climbed back to his feet. Though his head faced downward, the icy stare of Punchline’s black eyes beamed though the rim of his weathered hat. “Care to repeat that,” was the words that rolled off his bleeding lips.

“I said I don’t want to hurt you; last chance to give up.”

Punchline repaid Shifter back with a kick to the gut and knocked the wind out of him. He crouched over unable to stand upright. Punchline bear hugged Shifter around the waist, flipped him over, and planted him back first into the soil. Shifter slipped into unconsciousness; his form reverted back into his true form, a speckled-color man with no hair and clothed only in a pair of form fitting shorts. “You’re not mean enough to be her,” Punchline said and then collapsed.

Punchline strolled out next to Shifter. The emotional anguish debilitated the good evil clown more so than the physical blows, but a familiar shadow cast its healing shade and gave relief to the tortured soul. Mr. Whiskers tracked down his master and tended to his wounds and gently cleaned the blood and dirt off of Punchline as a mother cat licked her kittens.

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CrossoverManiac

08-19-2007, 08:57 PM

(continued from the last post)

It’s said that the difference between boys and men is the size of their toys, which Gatekeeper presupposed to mean men never really do grow up, and the proof hung from the ceiling. Over her head was a puppeteer workshop of sort, only the ‘puppets’ were giant humanoid robots in various stages of construction; an arm here, a head on the other side of the passageway, the upper part of the body on another, a leg, and another arm attached to a cannon larger than even the ones on battleships, and they were suspended on steel cables tethered from scaffolds just below the ceiling. Though they were roughly human-like, the parts were all rectangular in their profile lacking the circular, organic form of the human body.

“No wonder why that tunnel was so big!” Rita estimated if any of the mechanizations were completed, it would be 35 to 40 feet in height. Rita was unnerved wandering around the den of these stainless steel titans. Was the shadows playing a trick on her or did its fingers moved? And the industrial-sized air conditioner kicking on didn’t help in making the atmosphere any less spooky, either. Rita ducked into a room and glimpsed an even more unsettling visage.

‘It’ was confined behind steel bars. Its gray, oily skin was reminiscent of a salamander’s. The head was swollen to twice that of the size of a normal human being’s even though ‘it’ was no taller than Rita. The being turned its oval charcoal eyes that reflected the fluorescent lights overhead towards Rita and bobbed its head and peered to the left and right sizing up the young heroine. ‘It’ was one of the infamous ‘grays’. Gray was a slang term for the big head, bug-eyed aliens that abduct people from their homes and performed experiments on them. But this one was a big different from the others. No, the difference was huge as in this gray was huge; covered in layers and layers of fat. Rita didn’t know which repository of blubber vibrated more: the pop belly pregnant with twenty pounds of fat, the drooping cheeks on a face that should be lean and oval, or the pair of man-breasts that flopped as the creature approached her.

“Wha...wha...what are you?” Rita studdered.

“What?!?” The alien responded snidely. “They didn’t tell you when you signed up for this mickey mouse operation? I’m an alien, martian, extraterrestrial, little green man, though my skin is really more of a smoky grey tone, but no one accused your kind of being smart.”

“How did you get here?”

“You’re special right? I crashed on your little mud ball sixty years ago, and I’ve been wasting away in here ever since.”

“I thought you guys wasn’t so...fat.”

“LOOK HERE!” The alien shrieked defensively. “I don’t get out much okay. It’s not like I can do a three-mile jog in this hamster cage, here.” The gray motioned with its hand as if to shoo Rita away. “If you got any more questions, take it up with your owner, talking chimp. I’m busy wallowing in my crapulence.”

“But I don’t work here!”

“Oh!” The alien was intrigued. “Do tell.”

“I’m looking for a woman by the name of Natalie Sullivan. You won’t by any chance know where she is?”

The alien pointed to the intercom that were blaring the intruder alarm. “And I take it by that recording of a cow caught in a wheat thrasher that they won’t you to find her.”

“That’s right.”

The alien stroked its double chins. “Well in that case, the little trollop is hold up two levels down in room 25-B.”

Rita started to walk out, but then paused. “Um...if you like, I could free you.”

The alien fingered his noseless nostrils and then pointed to fist-sized black eyes. “See this. I stick out like Ally McBeal in a fat farm. Look kid, that was sweet of you, but I’m a prisoner here no matter what where I am on this planet but screwing these guys over would make my day. So give them one for me, will ya.”

“Be glad to.”

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CrossoverManiac

08-19-2007, 08:59 PM

(continued from the last post)

Helplessness sucks. It wasn’t often when both Levy twins were on the same page. And agreeing with each other happened with the frequency of a solar eclipse. But when two living natural disasters get into their mind to kill each other and, in the process, pulverize, rip apart, and utterly destroy anything that’s in the way, helplessness is a fitting emotional state to be feeling. From a safe distance and ducking into a shadowy alleyway tattooed by graffiti, the two boys witnessed the demise of their newest team mate. The pit of their stomach rumbled each time Golem was plastered by one cheap shot after another caused by the terrible guilt of abandoning her and from the powerful shockwaves unleashed when Golem was struck by Diamond Joe’s jaded fist. Golem was defenseless against Diamond Joe’s hit and run attacks and the illusion concealing him and paralyzed by concern for the safety of what appeared to be a throng of idiots.

“Why won’t they beat it?” Calvin fumed. So long as those bozos gathered outside, Golem couldn’t go all out against Diamond Joe. He wanted to drag them off with his bare hands, but to do so with Diamond Joe around was suicidal. Punchline’s bulletproof costumes wouldn’t stop Diamond Joe’s fist. One punch would kill either of them instantly.

Kevin nodded his head. “Yeah, you said it.” And Kevin was about to do something about it. He came out of hiding and head to Golem.

“Dawn! Are you crazy?” Calvin reached out to his brother, but it was too late. Kevin was closing in haphazardly on the battlefield. “Come back here, now!”

Kevin’s coming out of hiding didn’t escape Golem’s attention nor did the teenage boy rendezvousing with him. What if it was Diamond Joe? The sudden realization gripped Golem. She weaved though the body onlookers, but as she cleared the crowd, Golem’s legs were kicked out from underneath her and she fell to the ground.

“Had a nice trip?” Golem glanced up to see the image of a woman holding her infant child fade to the fiendish grin of Diamond Joe who spun Golem around by her right arm and leg and propelled her on a ballistic trajectory by the centripetal force. Diamond Joe was David, Golem was the rock from the slingshot, and the building that she collided with was Goliath. A third of the side of the building facing the two combatants flecked off and uncovered the top sixth floors layered one on top of the other. Debris consisting of metal girders and insulation dangled from the exposed portion of the structure. Golem laid out on the edge of the middle exposed floor. The floor she reclined on was weakened by the crash. As Golem pulled herself up, it gave way and she tumbled back to the earth and carved out a crater out of the mound of rumble that waited on her at the end of her fall.

Calvin turned Kevin’s head to Golem laying on what was left of the office building. “See why I told you not to go out there!” Calvin just hauled his brother back to the alleyway with his shadow. “If that you, you’d be dead right now.”

“But I got to help her!” Kevin pleaded.

“You’re helping by keeping out of the way.”

Kevin shook his head emphatically. “No, doing nothing isn’t helping.”

“Okay genius,