Fiction

Adventures of the Northern Lights: Jex Feels It Again

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga

Chapter Seven: Jex Feels It Again

Jex Rambo was on high alert.

The last few days were a flash!  One moment he was finishing up paperwork for Mr. Durling and the Durling Foundation, and the next he was on a plane with the mysterious Night Ranger on his way to Ontario.  There were some very important documents kept at Aaron’s Archive in Owen Sound.  Jex and the Ranger were assigned to protect the Archive.  Much to his shock and disbelief, their friends Mike and Harrison had recently been attacked by a Transformer.  An actual alien robot disguised as a truck.  Anything goes now, thought Jex.  What was fiction is real, and he could not rest.

And so he patrolled, outside, keeping a close eye on every vehicle, person and animal he spotted.  Shirtless, of course, Jex Rambo didn’t even break a sweat in the hot sun.  The consummate professional.

He reached to his belt and pulled out his radio.

“Rambo to Ranger, Rambo to Ranger, come in Night Ranger,” he spoke.  “Over.”

“Night Ranger here,” replied the mysterious figure.  “On the roof.”

Jex looked up and shaded his eyes from the bright mid-day sun.  A figure in black could be seen, crouching, watching.

“Got you in my sights,” confirmed Jex.  “You got this area covered mon ami.  I’m going to widen my patrol.  Will report back.  Jex out.”

While he missed the ocean, Owen Sound wasn’t so bad.  There was water, and the people were friendly.  Not to mention, he got to hang out with Aaron again.  In theory!  Aaron was currently with his family at a hockey game.  The Owen Sound Attack.  Not as great as the Moncton Wildcats, but not bad, thought Jex.  He hoped his friend was having a good time.  Meanwhile, it was his job to make sure the Archive was secure.  It was a modest house in the outskirts of town, but the Durling Foundation had spared no expense with a top-notch security system.  Not to mention, the best security that money could buy:  Jex and the Night Ranger themselves!

Jex’s radio crackled again.  “Jex Rambo here,” he spoke.

“Hey, it’s me again,” said the voice on the other end:  the Night Ranger.  “Listen, I hate to bug you, but since you’re out there…”

Jex shrugged.  The Ranger had a habit of sending him out on errands while he sat on the roof.  “Yeah…” sighed Jex.

“It’s no big deal if you can’t, but I was browsing Discogs and you won’t believe it.  There is a local seller here in town with a Japanese picture sleeve promo copy of ‘Don’t Tell Me You Love Me’ and Mr. Durling would really like to have it.  Since it’s right here in town, you understand.”

“Yeah…” sighed Jex again.  “Give me the address.  I’ll go pick it up.”

Jex was seated in the vehicle that the Durling Foundation had sent them for local travel.  As was his penchant lately, Durling was using cars designed after original Generation One Autobots.  And so, he found himself behind the wheel of a yellow Lamborghini with a huge silver exposed engine in the back.  “Sunstreaker” was what Durling had called it.  Jex was driving in the least inconspicuous vehicle in all of Ontario right now.  At least it was a sweet ride.  Stopped at a traffic light, a gaggle of girls swooned at his manly visage in the yellow supercar.  He raised his sunglasses, winked and gunned the engine.  Yeah, this wasn’t a bad ride at all.

He glanced again at the GPS.  “Ray” was the contact, and the location was only a few more lights away.  It was a popular bar called The Big Prize.  According to a Google search, their karaoke contest every Friday night always drew a crowd.

“Maybe I’ll stay and have some wings,” thought Jex.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had a good half-pound of chicken wings.  “Night Ranger always sending me out on these errands for Durling.  You never see him going out.  ‘Oh I can’t show my face.’  What an excuse.  Just a reason to make Jex do all his work!  I’m going to get hot wings.”

There it was just ahead:  The Big Prize Karaoke Bar and Grill.  Looked alright.  It was midday and so there was ample parking.  He pulled the yellow beast into a perfect spot right in front of the entrance.  Stepping out and shirtless, Jex easily drew the attention of passers-by.

“Sorry ladies, I’m here on business!” he chided as he cooly crossed the sidewalk to the entrance of the bar.  One fainted, but was caught by her friend.  Jex didn’t notice, however, because he soon found himself thwarted in his mission.  By a sign.

“NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO ENTRY” it said in big, bold yellow text.

“Merde!!” stomped Jex.  “Foiled by a stupid yellow sign!”

Jex had to park the Lambo way back in the Walmart parking lot.  Durling would be furious if he got a scratch or a ding.  But, he needed a shirt.  Walmart would have a cheap T-shirt he could throw on, surely.

He strolled up to the big entrance, now starting to sweat a bit in the afternoon sun.  The doors swooshed open and he strode into a blast of cold air.

“O, ça fait du bien!!” he exclaimed as the Walmart air conditioning bathed his skin.  “That feels so good.”

He smiled and walked through the gate, only to be halted by a little old lady in a red vest.

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come in without a shirt!”  She tapped a yellow sign with a marker in her hand. Jex pulled his sunglasses down his nose to take a closer look.  “Qu’est-ce que c’est??” The sign read SHIRTS AND SHOES MUST BE WORN IN THIS ESTANBLISHMENT.

“Merde again!!” swore Jex.  He swiftly felt bad for it.  “Oh, sorry lady, pardon my French.  It’s just that I need a shirt!”

“Oui, you do!!” she returned to him in a sarcastic tone.  “Don’t make me tap the sign again.”

“Touché ,” said Jex.  Just then, a kid entered and walked up to Jex.  He poked him in the arm.

“Hey mister!” he said with excitement.  “Is that your car out there?”

“It sure is!” smiled Jex.  “Hey wait.  Kid – you wanna make a little extra money today?”  He handed the kid two twenties.  “Go in and buy me a T-shirt, large size.  Bring it back to me and you can keep the change.”

“Sure thing mister!!”

The kid ran into the store.  Jex smiled at the lady, and waited.

And waited.  He tapped his toes to the muzak.  Waited some more.

10 minutes.  Now 20.

“I don’t think he’s coming back,” said the lady.

“Sacré bleu!” stomped Jex again.  “Hey…lady…would you mind?  I really need a shirt, as you know, and you can keep the change.  Please…help a guy out?”  He pleaded.

The lady, smirked.  She pretended to think about it a moment, and then said “Gimme $50 and I’ll go get you a T-shirt.”

Jex winced, but pulled two more twenties and a ten from his wallet.  “Merci madame, merci.”  And you’re welcome, he thought to himself.

The lady took his money and grinned.  Five minutes later she was back with a Walmart shopping there.

“Thank you for shopping at Walmart, your receipt is in the bag, have a nice day sir,” she said, handing him the plastic bag.

“Merci,” Jex repeated, and ran back to the Lambo.  He opened the bag and pulled out a shirt.  A white T-shirt with Barney the dinosaur on it.  The receipt fell out of the bag, onto the ground.  Jex bent over and picked it up.

“Sacré bleu again!!”  He read it aloud:  “SALE – FIVE DOLLARS!?”  It didn’t take a calculator to do the math.  He was down $85 because of a $5 T-shirt!  He drove the Lambo up to the entrance, squealed the tires, and flipped the old lady the bird.  Her mouth fell agape in shock, but Jex didn’t feel badly this time.

“I’ve had about enough of this day,” said Jex to himself.  The cool air blasted his face inside the Lambo.  “Well, at least all I have to do now is pick up the record.”

Once more, he parked the yellow Lambo in front of The Big Prize Karaoke Bar and Grill.  He stepped out and grimaced as he slipped on his brand new Barney the Dinosaur T-shirt.  It fit, but…wow.  This time, a flock of girls laughed as he entered the bar.

“Haha, yeah, it’s a funny shirt,” he waved.  “I’m wearing it ironically of course.”  They giggled some more.

A server greeted him at the front desk, but tried not to stare at his shirt.  “Hello and welcome to the Big Prize!  Can I get you a table?  Karaoke room is popular today.”

“Actually, I’m a bit late…long story…but I was supposed to meet a guy named Ray here.  Is he still here?” asked Jex.

“Oh!  Ray the owner?  Yes he’s right over there, in the karaoke room.”  She pointed to a man in the adjoining room.  He was slender, with sunglasses, and a shaved head.

“Oh he’s the owner!  Merci!” said Jex, “Can I order some hot wings too?” he asked.

“I’ll put the order in now!” she replied.  Ray noticed them from his seat, and made a signal to someone.  Then he motioned for Jex to come to his table.

Jex removed his sunglasses and smiled with hand extended, as he approached Ray the owner.  Ray stood, and removed his glasses.  He did not look happy.  Jex could see that.

“I’m really sorry that I’m late, long story,” said Jex in way of apology.  But Ray wasn’t hearing any of it.  He looked Jex straight in the eye.

“I don’t know Tim Durling…but you?  I never forget a face…mister…Rouselle?”

Jex gasped.

“Ray Coburn…” he whispered.

It all came back in a flash.  It was years ago, but it did happen.  A viral video.  Jex mocking the song “Feel It Again” by Honeymoon Suite… especially making fun the of keyboards.  A song Ray Coburn wrote.  Ray Coburn, the keyboard player for Honeymoon Suite.  Coburn called him out online.   Jex issued a second video in way of apology, but it failed to take.  “It wasn’t your keyboards, man!  It’s the fact that there were keyboards in the first place!” pleaded Jex in the video, not ingratiating himself to Ray in any way.

Ray smiled at him coldly.  “Please…have a seat.”  He motioned to the chair across from him.  “I am well chuffed to finally meet you in person.  What a surprise!”  He grinned wide and clapped his hands together.   Jex sat awkwardly, as a lone bead of sweat worked its way down the left side of his face.

“Comfortable?” asked Coburn.

Jex squirmed in his chair a bit, trying to get settled.  “Yes…thank you.  Ummm, Mr. Coburn, I am truly sorry….”

Ray interrupted.  “And I thought my day couldn’t get any better!  I just booked a fall tour playing keyboards for Larry Gowan.  And now the famed music critic Jex Russell walks through my door!  What are the odds?”

Jen cleared his throat.  “Yeah, about that, I truly do apologize…”

Coburn shushed him.  “Oh, I know you do, especially now that you need something from me.  Durling already sent the funds.  The Night Ranger 7″ promo.  My friend Harry Hess…you know, from Harem Scarem?  Another band you criticized.  Harry brought this back from one of his Japanese tours.  He gave me a whole box of records in fact.  When Mr. Durling offered to buy it, he didn’t mention that he was sending you of all people to pick it up!  A bonus, so to speak.  Icing on the cake.  A treat for me, to finally meet the great music critic in person!  The honour is mine.”

Every word dripped with sarcasm.  Jex was extremely uncomfortable.  The server brought him his hot wings, but sensing the tension at the table, said nothing besides “enjoy”.  She made a swift exit, and left Ray and Jex alone.

“Have a chicken wing,” instructed Coburn.  “When I heard your order, I asked the chef to make them extra special just for you.”

“Oh…yay…” said Jex as he looked at the plate beneath him.  The wings steamed on the plate, and the capsaicin in the sauce fumes burned the sensitive skin inside his nose, as he inhaled.  He coughed.  Ray smiled.  Jex looked him in the eye as he steeled his face.  He grasped a drumstick with both hands and raised it to his mouth.  He bit and pulled half the meat off in one bite.  Before the heat could hit his tongue, he took a second bite, finishing the rest of the meat and skin.  He dropped the naked bone onto his plate, and returned his gaze to Ray.  He coughed.  He coughed some more.  He was choking and there was no water on the table!  Ray smiled.  Jex’s fingers were covered in sauce.  Wiping them on Barney the Dinosaur’s stomach, he made a drinking motion, asking for water.  Ray signaled the waitress, who brought a glass filled with water and ice.  Jex grabbed it with desperation and gulped every last drop of cold liquid.  The relief was temporary as the burning returned.  Jex was sweating from his scalp, and tears were forming in his eyes.

“Sacré…bleu!” he croaked.

“Spicy, right?” chided Ray.  “That’s Pepper X extract, my personal stash.  2,693,000 Scoville heat units.  I’ll let you Google how hot that is when you gain control of your face again!” he chuckled.

That face was red and leaking fluid from every orifice except his ears.  Jex thought he knew what pain was.  He sucked back an ice cube from his water glass.

“Listen, Mr. Coburn, truly you’ve made your point and I’m sorry!” he coughed.  “What does it take for me to prove that?”

Ray smiled.  He had been waiting for Jex to ask that very question.

“You’re going to get up there on the karaoke stage, and sing ‘Feel It Again’.”

“Merde,” said Jex.  He still had sauce on some of his fingers, but most of it was on his shirt.  “Yeah, OK.”

“Great!” said Ray.  “Send everyone in!”

“What??” exclaimed Jex.  Soon, the whole kitchen staff, all the servers, and a large number of guests had gathered in the room.  Ray got up on the karaoke stage.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and patrons of all ages!  We have a treat for you this afternoon at The Big Prize karaoke room!  We have an online celebrity with us.  The great music critic, Jex Rambo!  He is a big Honeymoon Suite fan, and he is going to sing ‘Feel It Again’, which I wrote.  Jex…come on down.”

Jex smiled sheepishly and waved at the crowd as they clapped modestly.  He had to blink through the tears still forcing their way out of his eyes.  The hot chicken wing sauce continued to burn his throat, but he had already drank all the water.  He stepped up, glanced at the lyric monitor, and gripped the microphone.  He focused.  No little pepper sauce was going to stop him from completing his mission.  This stupid errand, that the Night Ranger didn’t want to do himself!  Well, he didn’t need the Night Ranger to save him.  He held the microphone to his mouth and glared at Ray.

“Let’s do this,” he said with steel in his eyes.

The song started.  Derry Grehan’s opening guitar licks were backed by Ray’s…wonderfully dominant keyboards.

“If you would just be sensible, you’d find me indispensable,” coughed Jex.

“I pray deep down in destiny, that places you with me, Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”  OK, that line went better.  Jex got more comfortable as he sang each line.  Too many keyboards!  But he powered his way into the chorus.

“Waiting so long…to feel it again!  I thought that this heart would never mend!  TO FEEL IT AGAIN!  I KNOW, IT IS THE LIVING END!” Jex threw in some dance moves as he began to own the stage.  He sensed the crowd’s reaction.  Then, during Derry’s brilliant guitar solo, Jex went full on!  Moonwalking across the stage, Jex had the audience going nuts!  Someone tossed a bra up on stage, and Jex knew he’d finally got the job in hand.  His confidence restored, he tore off the Barney shirt and threw it back.  A lady fainted.  He flexed and finished the song.
“To feel it again…feel it again!  I thought that this heart would never mend.  To feel it again, I know it is the livin’ end!”  And with a flourish, he was done.  The room erupted into applause.

“Thank you!” bowed Jex.  “Thank you downtown Owen Sound, the pleasure was all yours!” he shouted as he leaped off the stage.

He made his way back to the table.  Ray handed him some napkins for his saucy hands, and the vinyl record.  After Jex had sufficiently cleaned the sauce off his fingers, Ray extended a hand.  Jex grasped it and shook.

“Well done Mr. Rambo.  The wings are on the house.  You’re welcome back here any time.  Tell Durling to enjoy the record,” said Ray.

“I will Mr. Coburn, and thank you.  You can finish the wings!  By the way, you were great when I saw you with Kim Mitchell,” replied Jex.

Coburn nodded in appreciation, and Jex headed back to the exit.  And then he realized, he had in fact been inside without a shirt.  Small triumph, but still a triumph.

Another girl fainted as Jex stepped into the yellow Lambo.  He winked as he burned rubber down the Owen Sound road.

“Not a bad day after all,” said Jex to himself.  “Mission accomplished, back to base and a big, cold glass of milk!”

The Lambo was soon out of sight, and quiet returned to the town.  Adventure would wait for another day.  The Night Ranger would have to be on duty tonight.  Jex had other plans.  “Racing after midnight,” he smiled.  Gripping the wheel, he revved the Lamborghini off into the sunset, into the Ontario countryside.

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

 

Adventures of the Northern Lights: TRANSFORMATIONS

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga

Chapter Six:  TRANSFORMATIONS

When I first got here, to this new universe of mine, I couldn’t tell the difference at first.  Everything was the same.  My home.  My belongings.  My Jen.  Everything seemed reassuringly the same at first.  Comforting.  Like I have never lost anything.  Like it was all just a horrible nightmare.

But there are small differences.  Mint tastes slightly different in this universe.  More earthy.  The grass seems a slightly deeper shade of green here.  Maple syrup is sweeter.  Interestingly, all the differences seem to be plant-based.  Chew on that.

It has been pretty easy to adjust to my…return.  They consider it a return here.  They treat me exactly as the original Mike.  It feels odd, but I’m slowly getting used to it.  In time I think I’ll forget I’m from a completely different universe.  One that didn’t fare as well as this one.  Aside from the taste of my pancakes and a few other minor differences, there’s no place like home, and this is home.

The winter passed quickly, quietly.  A completely uneventful season.  Now the air is warm, and the sky has returned from its previous grey to a bright glowing blue.  I walk alone, down the familiar path to the beach.  Northern Lights Summer HQ is very much occupied.  Jen is busy collating data.  She loves working with numbers, and her experience in space quickly forced her to become an expert in astronomical data.  Harrison was around too, though today he’s off on a “side-quest” as he puts it.  He brought Ripper the Squirrel with him, and so it is a little less hectic today.  Summer HQ, located on the shores of Lake Huron near Kincardine, Ontario, is the perfect location to scan the sky for threats.  The lack of pollution (both light and the regular kind) made for clear images.  The only anomaly presently is the complete lack of any anomalies.

I can feel the wind on my skin as I pass through the trees, into the grasslands before the beach.  With nothing to stand in its way, the wind scoured the beach.  Storm coming.  Back at headquarters, the trees made the wind unnoticeable.  They protect the cottage from the sandblasting power of the winds today.  No flying my drone, that’s for sure!  Not today.  Funny how the trees protect the inland from the wind.

“Just like us,” I found myself saying aloud to nobody.  “The Northern Lights protect the people of Earth from…everything out there.”

I look up.  The moon was visible in the sky, brightly lit and nearly full on this clear day.  As I approached the beach I could see wave after wave hammering the piles of rocks peaking through the water.  The power of air and water.  Powered by the moon.  Remarkable.

The moon.  Jen and her team had cleared the moon of any alien interlopers.  It was clean.  I read the mission reports.

Then why did the moon always make me feel so…uneasy?  I wasn’t so sure that the aliens were gone.

I shook back to reality a moment, and grounded myself.  Stretching my arms out, I felt the air.  The wind rushing through my fingers and rippling my shirt.  “There’s no place like home…” I uttered.

As I centered myself, I allowed my mind to admit it consciously:  I was anxious.  And it wasn’t that this place didn’t feel like home.  It felt like there was a threat, just waiting for us at the door.  Just out of reach.  Just out of the range of our sensors, and senses.  Close…yet far.  It felt good to finally acknowledge this.  I am certain now.  My instincts have guided me all my life.  They speak to me now, clearly as the day itself.  Something is there, just out of reach.   It can see us, but we can’t see it.  Not yet, anyway.  Not yet.  Close, yet far.

Feeling accomplished, I run back up the path to the cottage.  I admired the car as I passed, another one on loan from the Durling Foundation.  Mr. Durling always had a penchant for Transformers, and was collecting a fleet of cars modeled after the full Generation One line.  In the driveway was a vintage Porsche 935 decoed up as original Autobot Jazz, famously voiced by Scatman Crothers.  It even had an Autobot logo.

“Sweet,” I smiled.  I stepped up onto the deck, into the front door.  Jen was hard at work in the kitchen.

The kitchen, of course, is where she set up her space surveillance gear.  It had the best lighting and the most table space for the four laptops she had set up.  There she worked diligently, scanning for anomalies as she has been all spring.

“Hey sweety,” she smiled as I walked in the door.  As usual, she had the TV on one of the “hard rock” channels.  They always played the same damn songs.  I preferred listening to my own music collection, but she likes the TV.  It would be nice if they could play some different songs every once in a while.  Always the same hits, by Faster Pussycat, Bon Jovi, Guns N’ Roses, Aerosmith and…wait a second.

Who said that I wasn’t right?I’ve lived for years without a life,Don’t have a soul on my side,Still ridiculed despite how hard that I have tried.

“What’s this song sweety?”  I asked.  I know this song.

“Not sure,” she said as she went to reheat her coffee.  “It’ll say who at the end.”

I didn’t need to wait to the end.  Just the chorus.

Close yet far,Drop me a line and tell me how the hell you are.

“I know this song!  It’s ‘Close Yet Far’ by CKY, Jess Margera’s band.  I bet I haven’t heard this song in like 20 years,” I mused out loud.  “I probably put it on one of your mix CDs when we were dating.  I did stuff like that for the ladies to make them thing I was still cool.”

“You are still cool,” dismissed Jen.

Close yet far,Drop me a line and tell me how the hell you are.

Waitaminute.  “Close Yet Far”.

“Something is there, just out of reach.  Close, yet far,” I whispered to myself, repeating myself from the beach.  The universe was speaking to me now.  I was sure of it.  I seemed to be attuned to this new universe in ways that others here are not.  “Close Yet Far”.

“Did you say something?” Jen asked as her coffee finished warming up.

“Yeah…no…yes…” I muttered.  “No time to explain.  Call Harrison, wherever he is.  I need him here, now.  And…I need to send you away.  Something is coming.  I am not going to let you come into any danger so I need you home.  You’ll be safe there.  But you have to go, now.  Something’s coming, imminently.”  I spoke quickly.  On the edge of panic, but not quite.

“Are you sure?” asked Jen as she dumped her hot coffee down the sink.  “I have scanned every wavelength and used every satellite to scan the sky, the ground and the water.  I haven’t seen anything that should make me leave.”

“I know…but something about this is…elusive…invisible to our scans.  It’s more than a feeling, I know something is coming, and it is close.  I need to you leave right away.  It can’t wait.  Don’t pack – you’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“OK I trust you,” said Jen.  “But I have to call Harrison first, you said to call Harrison.”

“Yes, call Harrison,” I affirmed.  “Then, I want you to take the escape pod.  It’s the fastest and safest way out of here and it’s programmed to take you home.”

“I love you,” said Jen.

“More,” I winked.

“Hello?  Hello?” answered Harrison as his phone rang sporadically.  Shaking it to no avail, he hung up, with no signal.  “Dear me, I have the worst phone reception in this building.  Spotty Canadian cell towers too mind you.  Now what were you saying sir?”

“It’s $5.00 for the minifig head, $10 for the trans-clear-blue windscreen, and 50 cents each for the little boomerang pieces.”

“Highway robbery!” exclaimed Harrison.  He considered trying a Jedi mind trick, but his hands were full of phones that kept ringing, with no-one on the other end.

“I have an honourable compromise…” tried Harrison, but the man cut him off.

“18 bucks, take it or leave it,” said the Lego dealer, firmly.

Frustrated, Harrison put the phones away into his many-pockets jacket pockets, and reached into his pants pockets.  He removed his wallet – a leather folded wallet with a moustache emblazoned upon its front side.

“Pay the man,” he requested.  A black squirrel suddenly darted out of one of his jacket pockets, which grasped the bills in Harrison’s hand.  Then the wee beast jumped off his arm and onto the counter of the quite startled Lego salesman.  Ripper the squirrel dropped the bills and swiftly ran back up Harrison’s arm.  Perching on his shoulder, he awaited Harrison’s next words.

“Highway robbery, I tell you!” scolded Harrison as he turned to leave.  He sighed.  “Just walk away,” he told himself out loud, shaking his head.  “None are here without sin.”  The shopkeeper stared, mouth agape, as the Australian walked out of his store with a squirrel on his back.

Out in the bright Canadian sun, finally Harrison’s phones acquired signal.  He chose one to answer.  “Hello?  Hello?”

Ripper stared in silent concern as Harrison’s brow furrowed.  With his hands full, Harrison was unable to brush his hair out of his face from the wind.  Ripper ran atop his head to assist.

“I understand,” nodded Harrison.  “I’ll be there within the hour.  Moustachio out.”

He pocketed his phone and urgently ran to his beige off-road 4×4 vehicle.  It was the spitting image of Autobot Outback, complete with logo.  The pun of the lord of the wasteland driving a vehicle based on the word “outback” was too much for him to turn down, despite his preference to drive his V8 Interceptor.  Undeniably though, that car drew a lot of attention here in rural Canada compared to a beige SUV.

He has learned over the last year to trust his friends’ instincts.

I walk alone back at the cottage.  The wind was now rustling the trees.  The sky had become overcast.  Jen had checked in safe from home two minutes ago.  No sign of Harrison yet.  Thunder in the distance.  Only a matter of time before lightning appears.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I muttered.  “Time to go check on Dr. K.”

My “sister”, Dr. K.  She was slowly getting used to the new me.  I was no longer unwelcome at her place.  I took a quick jog over to her cabin.  I stepped onto her new porch.  She preferred not to formally join the Northern Lights.  Northern Lights-adjacent was more her style.  Independent, but willing to work together.  In her driveway was a yellow Volkswagon with a red Autobot logo.  Durling had loaned her Bumblebee.

“Man, Mr. Durling’s really collecting them fast,” I remarked as I knocked.  The sound of about ten different dogs greeted me.  The door opened and Dr. K appeared, holding a new dog.

“Hello!  She said, “This is Lord Alfred!”  She held the poor frightened animal up and I patted its cute head.

“Well hello Alfie!” I answered in a baby-talk voice.  “How you today?”

“He’s anxious,” answered Dr. K.  “I think you’re right.  Something’s coming and it’s not just a storm.  All my dogs are anxious.”  They all yipped in agreement with her.  “BABIES!  Calm down!” she scolded them.  Sometimes she forgot that her animal army were ferocious killers.  But for them to be scared, at a time like this?  This was alarming.

“I hear you, Alfie,” I comforted.  Returning my focus to Dr. K I tried to speak over the sound of the wind.

“Here’s what’s happening,” I shouted.  “Harrison’s on his way.  He’s in Outback.”

“Which one is Outback again?” asked Dr. K.

“The beige ‘jeep'”!  I responded.  She shook her head in confusion, not really knowing any of the second-tier Autobots.  “It doesn’t matter, he’s on his way and won’t be long now.  I have an idea though.  Do you have your bass clarinet here?”

“Of course!” she answered.  “I had a recording session this afternoon, before the storm ruined that chance!”

“OK, good!”  I responded.  “Question two.  Can you summon portals to the multiverse with it?”

Dr. K grinned.  “Sort of.  I can access the Schnauzerverse.  From there I can travel to the rest of the multiverse, but not many people can survive the natural wildlife of the Schnauzerverse!  I think I know where you’re going with this!  If you’re anything like my ‘real’ brother, you’d want to send whatever is coming far away!  If something bad is coming, then I can send him off to the Schnauzerverse!”

I snapped my fingers.  “Brilliant!  Hold tight, keep the dogs at bay!”  The sky cracked with thunder.   “Harrison’s gotta be on his way, we just gotta give him more time!”

Ripper sat anxiously on the headrest of the passenger seat inside the Outback car.  The rain was pounding the windshield, making it hard for Harrison to see.  This limited the speed at which he could travel.

“Squee squee!” cried Ripper as the rain worsened.

“I know, my friend,” calmed Harrison.  “I’m doing my best here under difficult circumstances!”  He applied the brakes as he slowed, coming down an incline.  “Have you heard from the Brainiac?  Does he know yet what we are facing?  Is it connected to this storm?”

Ripped shrugged.  How should he know?  He was just a squirrel.  But he knew what to do.  He pushed the numbers he memorized and called the Brainiac.

“Harrison!” said a distorted Brainiac over the speakerphone.  “Good to hear from you!  What’s your ETA?”

Ripper listened carefully.  His squirrel senses have been on high alert.

“Hard to say!” answered the moustached man.  “The storm is getting worse!  Is this connected to your imminent threat?”

“No!” came the response.  “Jen looked at this in detail before she left – she’s safe by the way.  This storm has been forecast for over a week.  The only connection we can fathom is someone using it against us for tactical advantage!”

Ripper looked back at Harrison for his reaction.

“I actually find that reassuring,” he answered.  “I’d rather an an enemy that uses a storm as a tactical advantage, than one who can summon a storm at will.”

“Good point!” came the Brainiac’s response.  “I’ll let you get back to driving, safe travels!”

With that Ripper disconnected the call, feeling somewhat more confident that they were going to survive this.

At Northern Lights HQ, the sky had darkened to an angry blue-black.  I watch the tempest roll in safely from inside the plate glass windows.  Thanks to an atomic generator provided by the Durling Foundation, the power remained on.  The first Jurassic Park film is running on one of the movie channels.  Any neighbours, save Dr. K, had vacated hours ago.  Only I remain, and I remain vigilant.

“Where are you, Harrison?  Something wicked this way comes.” I whispered to myself as I grow concerned.  It wasn’t like the Australian to be late, or to stop sending updates.  “He was not even that far away.”

A crack of lightning hit nearby.  My eyes are temporarily blinded by the flash.  And suddenly…I am surrounded.

“Oh no…not you guys again…”

I am surrounded by five aliens.  The little grey kind.  I know from my reading that my predecessor had dealt with these guys before.  They were one of the many possibilities that Harrison and I had anticipated.  I lower myself into a power stance, ready to launch myself at the intruders.  My legs are springs…steel springs.  Fast as a leopard.

“Hello boys,” I wink.

“Seize the human!” shouts the lead alien, who has a marking on his head, differentiating him from the rest.  A rank, perhaps?

I was prepared for this.  When the storm hit and the generator kicked in, I grabbed some night vision goggles in case I needed an advantage in the dark.  I smile as I drop them onto my face and kill the power with a remote stuffed in my front pocket.

“Peek-a-boo!” I shout as I nailed the lead alien right in the head with a swift kick.  He flies back and falls over a table.  His head makes an awful sound when it hit the varnished hardwood.  He’s not getting back up.

Two more aliens grab my neck from behind.  Their long, slender fingers are cold.  “Cold blooded…that’s interesting…” I say out loud as I try to pry their fingers off.  One jumps onto my back as he choked harder.  I feel myself getting lightheaded…going….

“Give us the schematics!  We know you have them!” whispers the alien on my back in a slippery voice.  It’s so unnerving, feeling its breath on my deck and its voice to so close to my ear.  Every hair on my body is as if raised by static.  Even so, as my skin crawls, I begin to laugh.  My guffaws startle them.  I reach back and pull the two aliens’ arms free of my neck.  I turn, and push both away from me.  Breathing again, I feel a surge of energy!   I mock the four surviving aliens as I see them regroup in front of me.

“The schematics!?” I laugh.  “Of Unicron, you mean!  Sure!  The magazine is right over there, on the scanner bed.  Take it!”

The aliens stare at me puzzled a moment.  “What is this trick?” says one, second from the right, in a lower voice than the others.

“No trick!”  I assure them.  “Take it!”  I raise my hands in mock surrender.  “Take it now, and you can leave this place in peace.  Or, you can join your friend on the floor over there as we go for round two?”

The low-voiced alien, who seems to have taken command for his fallen comrade, motions to the alien on the far left to get the magazine with the crucial Unicron blueprints inside.  Cautiously, the left alien waddles over to the scanner where the magazine is seated.  He picks it up slowly and examines it with his huge, almond-shaped alien eyes.  The eyes grow suddenly wider.  “This is the document we were sent to retrieve!”

“I have a question,” I query with hand araised.  “How did you know we had that?”  There are only a handful of people on Earth who know we had those schematics and why they were important.  I grow concerned.  Harrison has long suspected that there was a mole in the Northern Lights.  But who?

This time the aliens laugh…a strange, unnerving sound, like grasshoppers rasping in the sand.  The low-voiced one raises a device to his mouth and speaks some alien words.  Suddenly there is a flash of light and they were gone.  Even the dead one had been beamed up.  Now, the room has a strong smell of ozone.  Reaching into my pocket, I turn the power back on.  The lights flicker back to life.  I take a shallow breath, and feel around my neck, still sore from their alien grip.  I cough, and finally I laugh.  I laugh with all my lungs.

“What a bunch of dumb-asses!” I cry with tears now forming in my eyes from the hilarity.  “We took electron-scans of every page of that magazine and uploaded it to the cloud!  Those blueprints are on a thousand servers now!  There’s no way to delete them now.  We just finished scanning too…good thing Harrison pushed us to finish the project.  I’ll have to apologize for calling him a slave driver.”

 

Harrison, meanwhile, was in a heap of trouble all his own.  Though his Outback car had a solid grip on the rainy ground, he spotted headlights behind him, closing in.

“Ripper…I don’t like the way that vehicle is gaining on us.  Not in this storm.  Launch a probe.”

Ripper the squirrel nodded in acknowledgement and hit a button.  Outback’s roof cannon emerged from a slot in the vehicle’s top.  Ripper used his paws to control its angle from a tiny touchscreen, and launched.  From the cannon came a rocket-powered probe no larger than a tennis ball.  With several 8K cameras aboard its tiny fuselage, the probe was a disposable device once it finished its flight, but would transmit all the images direct to Ripper’s screen.  The squirrel watched as the probe sailed closer to the eerie headlights following them.  Though it flew over its target in a fraction of a second, it captured dozens of images as it did.

“SQUEE!” exclaimed Ripper.

“I can’t look at them now Ripper, I have to keep my eyes on the road.  Tell me what you see.”

Ripper made many excited sounds and gestures, and Harrison nodded in understanding.  He had spent months learning Squirellese.  He and Ripper could communicate as easily as you or I.

“An armored black truck with a Decepticon logo, well that’s not alarming at all,” said Harrison with a rare use of sarcasm.  He glanced into his rear view mirror.  “It’s almost on us.  I can’t go any faster, Ripper, or we’ll fly off the road!”

Ripper squee’d some more.

“I don’t know what they want Ripper.  Contact Mike at HQ.  Inform Lord Brainiac that we have company.”

Ripper went back to his control panel and worked the screen, but let out a frustrated “SQUEE!”

“Jammed?  Communications are jammed?  Oh, not good.”  Harrison grimaced as he took a curve in the highway at a speed far exceeding anything considered survivable.   He smiled a moment at the idea of the upcoming meeting between Autobot and Decepticon.  He frowned again when he realized that he was hopelessly outmatched.

“We have only one course of action Ripper,” he said in a calm voice.  “We can’t beat Scourge, and we can’t ungun him, so we have to lose him.  Kill the exterior lights.  Hold on tight.”

The squirrel grabbed onto the door handle and prayed a little prayer to Squirrel God.

The tires screamed in unholy pain as Harrison hung a hard right.  The vehicle streaked across the blacktop sideways as it struggled to regain control.  Suddenly the tires bit asphalt again, and Outbook lurched down the side road.  Soon Harrison was traveling at top speed once more, having at least put some distance between them and their pursuer.

“Even if we don’t lose him, he won’t be able to corner like we can, and we can gain back some ground.”  Ripper nodded in understanding.  “Are we still jammed?  Contact Mike!”

Back at HQ, I continued to worry about Harrison’s lack of communication.  Something stinks like a rat.  A traitor.

I was awaiting a callback from Mr. Durling, currently at the Durling Foundation on the east coast.  When I attempted to call, an assistant who claimed his name was “Rufus” wouldn’t put me through.  Said Mr. Durling was in a high stakes negotiation for a Night Ranger Dawn Patrol 8-track cartridge.  I killed time by cleaning up alien splooge.  Fun fact:  when you knock an alien out against a table, they excrete an unpleasant slime like a hagfish.  It has been a fun evening.

Suddenly the video phone lights up!.  It is Durling.  He is smiling.  He must have won the tape.  By his side is Shirtless Jex Rambo, the Jexciter, doing a flex.

“Jex!  Mr. Durling!  Good to see you guys!  It went well?”

Durling’s grinning.  “Let’s just say I had to bring Jex along to guard the massive amount cash we needed to acquire the tape.  Cash only.  No e-transfer.  Guy was a bit eccentric, but you have to be a little bit if you’re in this hobby.  What’s up?”

“I have news and none of it is good,” I begin.  Jex drops the smiling flexing schtick and speaks.

“Oh no mon ami, what happened?”

I catch them up on everything.  The storm, the alien attack, what they were after, and my suspicions.  Durling and Jex are two of the only people in the world who knew about the schematics.

“This is most concerning,” says Durling in a serious tone.  You could never imagine he just bought Dawn Patrol on 8-track by his face.  “Jex – as head of security, how many people know about those diagrams?”

Jex takes a moment to count on his fingers.  “Onze – eleven.  Those who discovered it – Mike, Harrison, Jen, Dr. K, Max the Axe, and the little squirrel.  You and I.  Then we shared it with a limited number of original Northern Lights members on a need-to-know basis.  These were Aaron and the Snowman.  We decided they were the only ones who needed to know.  Mr. Books, being our book archivist, was responsible for buying up every other copy on eBay as you recall.  Snowman was informed as part of our partnership deal.  As his financial contributions to the Northern Lights constitute 33% of our budget, he has access to all our secure data.”

There is a silence, and then I speak.  “OK, so right off the bat you can scratch Harrison and I off that list.  And obviously Ripper too.  I hope you trust us that much.  I can vouch for Dr. K.  She wants nothing more than her revenge, and she remains aligned with us.  I can’t see that changing.  Aaron is as solid and trustworthy as anyone.  I can vouch for him.  Max the Axe though…he’s…well he’s kind of a big deal, and…”

Tim cuts me off abruptly.  “Can you get Max in on this call, Jex?”

Jex laughs.  “I can try.  Who knows where that guy is though at any given time!”  Jex hits some buttons and tries to connect us to Max.  Suddenly a new window opens on my screen.  It was Max.  Max the Swingin’ Axe.

“Hello?  Tim?  You buying some tapes today?”

“Hi Max, no.  Listen, do you remember that magazine with the Unicron schematics that we got from you?  Starlog, July 1986?” asks Tim.

“I got lots of those!” says Max happily.  “Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“No, no,” continues Tim patiently.  “You sold us one.  The July 1986 Transformers Movie special.  Did you tell anyone else about that?”

“Yeah, I told you about it, remember?” says Max.  “And then you bought it from me.  It was after I got sprayed by that skunk.  I had to buy new clothes.”

Jex, getting impatient, interrupts.  “Max, mon ami, nobody else knows you sold us that magazine?  Focus, buddy.”

Max takes a moment to think.  I can see the concentration in his beady eyes as he squints in concentration.  “No, Jex.  Why would I?  I’m kind of a big deal and I have big stuff going on.  Hey Tim, you got any reel to reel players that work?”

“We might, I’ll have Rufus  check our warehouse,” says Durling.  “Thanks Max.  And I must stress to you – tell no one.  Don’t even tell anyone about this conversation.”

“What conversation?” asks Max.

“Good man!” said Tim as he disconnects Max.  Turning his attention back to Jex and myself, he looks grim.  “Gentlemen, what are the chances that Snowman has turned on us?”

The words hit heavy.  The Snowman was a founding member.  The eccentric Kiss fan had been an adversary in the past, but was a cornerstone of our team.  The Northern Lights had always counted on the Snowman.

“The Snowman is moving,” I inform the team.  “He sold his big houses and moved to Georgia.  Different state, different taxes.  He’s basically out of contact for now.  Snowman’s spending 12 hours a day packing up Kiss memorabilia and the other 12 sleeping.  It took him 13 days to pack up his Gene Simmons Super Duper Vault alone.  Consider him out of touch.”

“Well that’s no good,” says Durling.  “It’s like herding cats here.  Regardless, even if you lost your original copy, Aaron has archived every other known copy on earth, and we have detailed scans on multiple servers.”

“Mes amis,” says Jex, “Allow me to go to Aaron’s Archive to protect him.  If any more aliens come for the magazines, he will need my help.”

“Yes, yes,” nods Tim.  “And take the Night Ranger with you.”

“Very good,” I say.  “I’m going to try and contact Harrison again.  Over and out.”

The rain was coming down harder, but Ripper had finally acquired a signal.  A weak signal, but he was connected!  “Squee!  Squee!” he exclaimed.

“Great!  Put him on speakers!” ordered Harrison as he concentrated on the road.  It was Mike.

“Harrison!  Ripper!  You guys OK?  What’s happening?” asked Mike over the phone.

“We had to take a minor detour,” demured Harrison.  “We’re being pursued by Decepticon forces.”

“Oh great!” said Mike with exasperated sarcasm.  “And I just got attacked by aliens looking for that Starlog magazine with the Unicron blueprints.  And, there’s more…”

With great concern, Mike filled the pair in on their suspicions about the Snowman and everything that has transpired.

“Well, I know you and I didn’t say anything to anybody, and I agree with your character assessments of Dr. K and Aaron,” said Harrison.  “I find it hard to believe that the Snowman could have turned traitor,” he continued.  “He has been by our side since some of our earliest adventures.  He has been generous with his support financially and technologically.  What could be his motive?”

“This is going to sound weird,” said Mike.  “I had a dream the other night that Snowman was captured by Decepticons and they put a cerebro-shell into his brain.  Could be just a dream, but I’m starting to think that there are no coincidences.”

“We can’t use that as legitimate evidence,” dismissed Harrison.  “A dream might only be a reflection of something else that happened elsewhere in the vast multiverse.  Listen, I’d love to chat, but I’m in the middle of a deadly car chase in a rainstorm.”

“Acknowledged,” responded Mike.  “I’m getting Jazz and Dr. K.  She can summon a portal to banish your Decepticon to the Schnauzerverse.”

“Good plan,” said Harrison.  “Over and out.”

“Are you sure about this?  Trusting our fate to an Australian that I hardly know?” asks Dr. K as she buckles in.

“That’s a bit of hyperbole, isn’t it?  I’m driving, I’m the one you’re trusting your fate to.  I’m just going to drive Jazz here, to home in on Harrison’s location.  There…tracking on.”

“The Queen of Schnauzers wouldn’t approve,” protests Dr. K.

“Well the Queen of Schnauzers trusts me.  You should too,” I proclaim.  I have no idea who the Queen of Schnauzers is.

“Well I don’t approve…” I hear her grumble.

“Listen.  Don’t worry.  I have lots of experience driving in storms!” I say in the most reassuring voice I can muster.  I turn the key, and the Porsche 935 roars to life like a demon.  I’ve driven in lots of storms…but, driving a Porsche 935 in a storm…that I’d never done before.

“Can you at least put some good music on?” complains Dr. K.  I had Priest on previously.  She hates Priest.

“Of course!”  I select Glass Tiger.  “Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone”.  Probably the weirdest choice ever for an upcoming battle, but I like absurd contrast.  “Let’s go!  Allons-y!”

Once we hit the open highway, I open up the throttle.  “Woah, this thing really moves!  Check the console – tell me how far out we are.”

Dr. K check the screen and frowned.  “He’s 15 minutes away…but moving further.  He’s going in the wrong direction.”

“He’s trying to lose that Decepticon.  We have to catch him!” I exclaim as I try to keep from panicking.

Don’t forget me when I’m gone
My heart would break
I have loved you for so long
It’s all I can take

Glass Tiger’s Alan Frew sings the melody with pop perfection, as I drive straight into possible death.  Perfect!

Outback raced down the gravel backroad, pelted by stones.  The beige finish was dented and dinged by numerous pebble projectiles, as Harrison took it as fast as he could without losing control.  The truck behind, seemingly immune to the flying rocks, continued to gain ground.  A large stone hit the windshield, cracking it.

“Woah, that was a bit too much!” said Harrison as he focused.  “But I can’t slow down!”

“Squee squee!” cried Ripper.  He was handling the controls for the roof cannon, but the unstable road and high speed made it near impossible for him to land a solid shot.  All he was doing was kicking up stones which was doing nothing to slow down their adversary.  It continued to pursue with unearthly persistence.  “Squee squee!” he cried again.

“Oh, of course,” said Harrison, sounding defeated.  “We’re jammed again.  Tracking too?  Can Mike still find us?”

Ripper shrugged.  He had no way to know.

They could hear Scourge’s engine now as he barreled down the road, closer and closer, stones just bouncing off his frontal armor.  Little Outback was no match.  Scourge was so close behind now that Ripper could hardly miss.  He took another shot.

Harrison heard the cannon fire and the shot connect.  He turned his head.  Hair blew behind him from the wind now coming in through the cracked windscreen.  He saw an explosion.  “Yes!  Direct hit!  That’ll slow him down!”

Indeed, Scourge swerved slightly as he struggled to remain on the road.  The rain could not keep down the dust as it pillowed out behind the truck, now filthy with dirt and mud.  Harrison hit the accelerator, but Outback was slowly losing power.  It ran on electric, not gas, and the battery was at less than half.  The tires had been taking a beating and one was getting closer and closer to the red failure zone.  They were almost out of ammo.  Phones and radios all jammed.  Despite the wind coming through, Harrison’s face was covered with sweat as he struggled to maintain control.

Behind them, the black truck gained ground once again.  Ripper fired off another shot which went high.  With GPS out, and Harrison unfamiliar with the roads, they were lost.  Mike told them that if they ever got lost in the countryside, always head towards the water if you could see it.  In this storm, there was no way to navigate.  They were driving blind with no idea what was ahead now.

Another shot, this one impacting the road right in front of Scourge’s front left tire.   It took a dive into the newly created pothole, and Scourge leapt into the air from the impact.  Trying to avoid the crash, the truck transformed into robot mode and took the landing rolling.  Scourge crashed into a roadside tree, completely taking it down and several hydro poles.

“Yes!  That shot was one in a million!” shouted Harrison.

“Squee squee!” agreed Ripper.

“It was our last shell?  Well at least you made it count!” said Harrison to his friend.

Behind them, Scourge was recovering from the crash, and resuming chase on foot.  He began running, with a loud stomp.  Suddenly, just as Harrison was beginning to gain ground, they heard another loud explosion.

“Front tire out!!” cried Harrison.  Their speed dropped dramatically.  Suddenly Scourge was gaining ground again.

“I’m afraid I’m all out of tricks,” said Harrison.  He checked the side door.  His trusty boomerang was stored there.  If worse came to worse, that was all he had left for a weapon.  It had saved his life many times in the past, against demons and knights, but could it even dent one of Unicron’s minions?  The car was crawling now, and Scourge was running.

“Squee!  Squee!” exclaimed Ripper, pointing at his screen.  “Squeeeee!”  He was studying an image from the rear car camera.  He had it zoomed in on Scourge’s head.

“What is it, little friend?  …Oh, really?  I see it.  It is worth a shot.  Literally.  Take the wheel.”

With that, Harrison transferred control of Outback over to Ripper’s little screen.  He retrieved his boomerang from the side door and gripped it firmly.  Just as Mr. McElroy had taught in fifth grade boomerang class.  He opened the window, and leaned out.  As the glass slid down, rain and wind poured into the car, jarring it slightly on its course.

“Hold tight Ripper, and keep it steady,” instructed Harrison.  He leaned out the window, boomerang arm outstretched.  He focused his eyes on the mighty robot, each booming step bringing it closer to their crawling car.  Harrison took a deep breath.  He was one with the boomerang.  Before he knew he was even throwing it, he had released it true on its course.  He watched as the object, too small to be worthy of Scourge’s attention, sailed closer and closer to its target.

Impact.

The small antenna mounted to Scourge’s head was knocked askew, disabling it.  With that, suddenly all communications returned!  Ripper had correctly surmised that the extraneous antenna was jamming all their signals.  And with another one in a million shot, Harrison had just given them another chance.

Suddenly the phone burst to life!  Ripper answered in glee.

“Harrison!  Ripper!  It’s us!  Mike and Dr. K!  Come in!”

Harrison could hardly hold in his relief.  “Oh thank Primus!  We just un-jammed our Decepticon friend but he remains in pursuit and is in robot mode!  We have minutes!”

The phone crackled.  “We have your location…” said Mike, cutting out.  Ripper looked behind and saw that Scourge had stopped to re-align his jamming antenna.  “…stay on course…” crackled Mike.  “Look for the signal…”  Crackle!  “…hit the ditch…”  came more words.  “…keep going!”

“I don’t understand!” said Harrison, but it was too late.  They were jammed again.  Harrison hit the accelerator.  Behind them, Scourge was back in truck mode.

Harrison pushed the pedal down as hard as he could, but it was no use.  The truck’s front bumper was now in contact!  Harrison felt the car lose control as Scourge pushed him down the highway.

Suddenly there was a light ahead.  Headlights blinded Harrison and Ripper.

“Mike said to hit the ditch, this must be it!”  Harrison swerved off the road.  Rolling into a ditch and landing in a cornfield, the chase was over for Outback.

Meanwhile, behind them, Scourge was blinded but kept going at top speed straight down the highway.  Passing the headlights of Jazz on the left hand side of the road, Scourge barreled straight into a sparkling, orange portal.  At roadside, Dr. K. was using her Sling Clarinet, opening a portal into the Schnauzerverse.

“Noooooo!” screamed Scourge as he sailed through.  With a flourish, Dr. K closed the portal as quickly as she opened it.

“He’ll be sleeping in the doghouse now!” punned Dr. K.

“Don’t forget him when he’s gone!” said Mike, high-fiving his sister as he got out of the car.  “Harrison and Ripper!”

Mike took off at a run into the cornfield, where he could clearly see the headlights of Harrison’s car.  Still carrying her bass clarinet, Dr. K joined him.  Outback lay in the corn on its side, wheels still spinning.

“Squee squee!” they heard coming from the car.  “We’re OK!”  said Harrison from a broken window.   “Bruised but not broken.  Very very sore.  A tad thirsty.  Perhaps slightly concussed.”

Mike’s log, stardate…can’t remember.  A couple days after the encounter with the aliens and Decepticons.  It’s been a whirlwind but, things have settled down.

I sit again on the front porch of Northern Lights HQ, vigilant as before.  Jen has returned, and the storm has passed.  Harrison and Ripper have returned to Australia for recovery.  The little guy is fine, but Harrison is worse for wear.  His boomerang arm is expected to make a full recovery.

It is alarming how easily Unicron’s minions can access our universe.  Mr. Durling is very concerned as well, or at least I am told he is concerned.  I wasn’t able to speak with him directly, but I did call up Jex and the Night Ranger, who are currently staying with Aaron at the Archive.  All is well there.  The Snowman is out of contact during his move to Georgia.  I understand he’s starting a peach farm.

Et tu Snowman?…could you have betrayed us?

I don’t want to think about that.  For the moment, that’s not my fish to fry.  That’s Jex’s ball for now.

Durling has sent us more tech to protect HQ.  Shield and hologram projectors.  We can cloak the entire place now.  To outsiders, it now looks abandoned and empty.  Meanwhile, the bad guys don’t have a clue where Harrison is.  Which gives us the advantage.  For Harrison’s safety, this information is being isolated from Snowman’s access.  Person to person, mouth to mouth, no paper trail, no digital trail.  Even Durling doesn’t know.

I write these words in my log and I smile. I walk to the roaring fireplace steps away, and I throw the entire log into the fire.  I stand, and watch the flames grow bright.  The heat on my face is comforting.

“We have to be careful from now on,” I say as I poke the fire and ensured every last paper burns.

And there I sit, by the fire as it slowly burns out.  I activate the new shields and cloaks.  We are safe.  And I intend to keep us safe.  I’m going to end this war, and I’m going to need help.

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

 

 

 

 

Adventures of the Northern Lights: Night Ranger: Heroes of the World

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga

Chapter Five:  Night Ranger:  Heroes of the World

Written and illustrated by HARRISON KOPP

 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

NEWS: 50 Years of Iron Maiden announce 50 more years of 50 Years of Iron Maiden

BREAKING:  April 1, 2026 – Canada/Australia.  Mike and Harrison, co-hosts of the YouTube channel “Grab A Stack of Rock”, have announced that their popular programme, 50 Years of Iron Maiden, will take them at least 50 more years to complete.  This works out to approximately 51 years of Maiden-related programming once completed.  We reached out to both of them, to ask about this inconceivable task.

“Yes, it’s true,” confirmed Mike.  “We keep acquiring more and more Maiden stuff, meaning we have to keep adding more and more bonus episodes.”

Harrison added, “As the pedantic one, I don’t like the idea of a show called 50 Years of Iron Maiden taking 51 years to complete, but I do understand the necessity to document every nook and cranny of Maiden.  They really are one of the bands that deserves to have their discography looked at so thoroughly and completely.”

We asked the duo if 50 Years of Iron Maiden had turned out to be a blessing, or an albatross around their necks?

“A bit of both!” laughed Harrison.  “This is far more than I signed up for, but at least it means I have to do fewer ‘contractual obligation’ episodes.  I really wanted to wrap it all up in just 16 months, but here we are at month 16…”

Mike added, “I’m just waiting until the albatross does finally fall from my aching neck.  But, according to the math, I’ll be 104 years old when we do our final episode in 2076.”

“We’d better get working on the next bonus episode, Mike,” concluded Harrison as he pulled his co-host out of his chair.

“No rest for the wicked,” said Mike as a farewell.  “Oh wait, no that’s Ozzy.  Or Helix.  Or both.  I haven’t slept in two days.”

And with that, we look forward to the next 50 years of 50 Years of Iron Maiden!  Coming soon in 2076.

 

Preview:  Look for a bonus episode soon…

INVESTIGATIVE REPORT & REVIEW: Spastic Phono Band – “Wings Under Japan” 7″ single – What’s the story behind this band?

SPASTIC PHONO BAND – “Wings Under Japan” (1980 7″ single, Slipped Disc Records)

INVESTIGATIVE REPORT – 45 years ago…

[Editor’s note:  the authors of this report have asked to retain their anonymity.] 

The year:  The harsh winter of 1980, remembered for its deep cold and snow.   In the realm of popular music, all four Beatles were still alive, even though the band had been broken up for a decade.  One of the Beatles soon found themselves in a wee bit of trouble.  This trouble would spill all over the world news, causing rippling effects and ramifications far beyond the shores of England, for that winter in New York State, a band would go on to record a song….

The Beatle in trouble was the still-babyfaced Paul McCartney.  It was no secret that he was already known for enjoying the green leaf.   Back in 1972, McCartney was arrested in Sweden for possession of Lady Ganja.  He was released without charges at that time, but his reputation was now cemented.  McCartney wanted to book a Japanese tour in the mid-70s, but the country was very strict about illegal substances and refused Paul permission to play.  The fans in Japan would have to do without.

Finally, in 1980, Japan had a change of heart and granted permission for Paul McCartney and Wings to tour in the Land of the Rising Sun.

He just needed to make sure he packed appropriately for the trip.

Paul McCartney is an undisputed musical genius.  His songs will last 100 years.  That does not mean that Paul always used his head.  Despite the scrutiny he was bound to experience upon entering Japan, he decided to bring a stash with him.  He was arrested upon discovery at the Narita Airport with 220 grams of Hawaiian green.  Reportedly, he didn’t even attempt to hide the electric lettuce, just packing it in his carry-on bag with his clothing.  Paul subsequently spent 10 days in the keiji shisetsu (刑務施設); actually the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.  Teenage girls numbering about 50 serenaded the station during Prisoner 22’s incarceration.

Unfortunately for Paul, the nature of this arrest and jailing far away from home meant headlines all over the world.  “PAUL IN CHAINS” and “EX-BEATLE ARRESTED IN JAPAN” went the articles, along with a photo of McCartney being escorted by Japanese officials.  It was huge news, especially in the UK where it became a bit of a media circus.

The judge in the case determined that McCartney brought the drugs for personal use and not trafficking, and decided that Paul had spent enough time in jail.  He was taken to the airport, and flown to Holland, where he was (perhaps surprisingly) refused entry.  He still had time for a chat with the press.

“How did you get out?” asked the reporter.

“Walking on foot,” answered Paul in typical cheeky Beatle humour.

The experience was “a drag” for Paul.  “I was woken up at six in the morning, then had to sit cross-legged for a roll-call. It was like Bridge on the River Kwai. They shouted out ’22’ in Japanese, and I had to shout back, ‘Hai!'”

The 11 date Japanese tour was cancelled at the cost of 2.5 million dollars and 90,000 tickets.

Did he learn from his experience?

“Now I have made up my mind never to touch the stuff again. From now on, all I’m going to smoke is straightforward [cigarettes]. No more pot.”  He later acknowledged his own stupidity.  “Well, to this day I have no idea what made me do it. I don’t know if it was just arrogance or what. Maybe I thought that they wouldn’t open my suitcase.  I can’t put myself back into that mindset now…to this day I have no idea what made me do it.”

Over in America, shortly after shoveling out from a massive dumping of overnight snow, a young songwriter named “Vic Trola” was inspired to write a song.  At least that’s how the credits read on the actual record.  A recent online theory postulated that “Vic Trola” was indeed a pseudonym, but these writings are mostly found in conspiracy theory discussions.  A fringe group that splintered off the main conspiracy theory group added that “Vic” was short for “Victoria”, not “Victor” as previously assumed.   These theories are largely dismissed by the other groups.  Our own extensive research has failed to unearth any other compositions written by Trola; just the one that you are reading about today.  We do know, thanks to documents obtained in the process of researching this article, that after catching their breath from shoveling the drive on that cold winter day, Trola went inside and began writing.  The surviving notes from Vic Trola’s respirologist confirm these facts.

Vic Trola’s song, as it evolved into its final form, was the product of on-stage gigging by the mysterious Spastic Phono Band, and that is where our story really begins.  Though their names are now lost to time, and their relationship to Vic Trola is clouded, we do know that they consisted of a tight rhythm section.  Both the drummer and bassist were exceptional.  They boasted a dual guitar configuration, and multiple lead singers including one female vocalist who appears prominently on their sole recording called “Wings Under Japan”.

The Spastic Phono Band had experience.  They had already been working on a set of originals and comedic covers.  Favourite hits by Santana and the Might Zep were endowed with new witty words, and they found an audience who shared their sense of musical comicality.  Encouraged by the audience reception to these songs, the Spastic Phono Band turned their attention to the hot news of the day:  Paul’s arrest in Japan.  Presumably with Vic Trola’s lyrical input, they started playing bits of his Beatles and Wings hits in a medley.  Egged on by the crowd, and adding throwaway lyrics here and there, the song “sort of wrote itself”, according to a maraca player who claims to have been there at the time (and requested complete anonymity).  It took only three or four shows for the song to come together as we know it today.  The Paul medley became an instant live hit.  The crowds ate it up.  They learned the words, sang along and shouted for more!  Clearly, the song needed to be recorded in a studio, and put out on a record.

Unfortunately for the band and Vic Trola, who were based out of Liverpool (New York, pop. 2400), there were few studios around within the reasonable driving distance of a beaten-up touring van.  Their studio of choice would be unavailable for three weeks, and time was of the essence.  The Paul story was hot now, not later!  Even if they recorded the song immediately, it would have to be mastered and pressed at a record plant, meaning they had to act immediately.  The scarcity of nearby studios presented a challenge.  Would these young musical minds be able to publish their Paul pastiche in time?

As they used to say, the Spastic Phono Band let their fingers do the walking:  They picked up the phone and eventually connected to something that somehow passed as a recording studio.  The old schoolhouse that they booked was certainly was not conceived as a studio when it was built in the last decade of the 1800s.  The top floor housed the recording space, but in a decidedly inconvenient design and safety choice, it was only accessible via an outdoor fire escape.  All the band’s equipment had to be hauled up the emergency exit:  drum after drum after drum, followed by amp after amp.  Bags were passed from vehicle to musician and up the fire escape, which wobbled with every tentative step.  Also, it was winter.  Members of the band were not sure if they were going to survive the combination of snow and ice, metal steps, and gravity.   To our great fortune, they did.

The studio owner was also the engineer, and his soul still lived in the 1950s.  He didn’t grasp the nuance, or understand the Spastic Phono Band’s particular brand of humour.  He did, however, have a friendly personality and got along with the band.  A good sounding record began to take shape on tape.  The band nicknamed the engineer “Eddie”, a reference to a classic Leave It To Beaver character, Eddie Haskell.  Eddie’s studio had all the necessary equipment (minus an elevator).  He even had an ARP synthesizer which can be heard on two segments of the recording: “Silly Drug Laws“ and “Banned in Japan”.  Though the band did not have the budget to spend more time in the studio to do some further work on the guitars, the band climbed down the fire escape holding in their mittens a reel-to-reel tape of their hard-earned work.  Physicists specializing in the behaviour of water at low temperatures speculate that the tape was almost dropped once on the way down, but saved from an icy fate in the snow.

The schoolhouse was demolished in 2025 at 131 years old.

Though recorded, the song still had to be mastered and cut to vinyl.  With time slipping away, and Paul McCartney finally starting to experience a decline in the media frenzy over his Japanese vacation in the big house, the Spastic Phono Band were in an ever-increasing time crunch.  Their song, heavily dependent on McCartney’s imprint in the public consciousness, had to make its way to a physical record that you could buy.  Their preferred manufacturer was fully booked and the band could not wait any longer.  The track was complete, mixed and ready to be mastered…but where?

Through furious searching and some tense bidding on eBay, we have obtained some of the logs, unfortunately anonymous, detailing the following sequence of events of the recording:

Monday.

Tempus is fugiting.  Much to our dismay, the cute Beatle’s troubles in the Far East are rapidly becoming old news.  Also with windchill, it is about four degrees today.

The Paul story was soon displaced by other current events.  The Iranian Revolution made fresh headlines, and soon came the hostage crisis.  Front pages were dominated by the tense 444 day crisis, during which 66 Americans were held hostage at the US Embassy in Tehran.  As it happens, another band in the same area as the Spastic Phono Band, a trio, were working on a song referencing these events.  One of the songs in their regular set, popular in some of the local Irish venues around the area, was Jerry Jeff Walker’s “London Homesick Blues”.  It featured the unique chorus of “I wanna go home with the armadillo.”  (Who wouldn’t?)   This was easily adapted into “I’ve had enough of the Ayatollah”.  The clever lyrical substitute worked, and the band approached the club owners documented only as “The Brothers Three”.  The Brothers actually owned three clubs, which seemed poetic.  The Brothers Three liked the song, feeling that it tapped into the sentiment of the day.  The reached into their pockets and financed a studio recording of the Walker cover.  They were now in the record business.

The Spastic Phono Band, who were familiar with the trio in question, learned of this.  Realizing it was a good idea, they decided to make their own pitch to the Brothers Three.

Wednesday.

They went for it.  Sure, they argued a bit and the oldest one may have smacked the youngest one, but we did get a unanimous decision.  The Brothers Three are going to allow us to use the disc maker where they pressed the Ayatollah record.  

The record would be made in a little postage-stamp sized record plant (if you could call it that) in Connecticut.

Tuesday. 

One of the Brothers Three picked me up in his MG convertible today.  We took the tape to a dumpy little record pressing company.  Mission accomplished.  We ordered 300 copies to be made.   Then headed home, but my companion driving the convertible decided to put the top down.  It may be February thaw, but it was so cold I still don’t have feeling back in my nose.  Considering calling an otolaryngologist.

Frozen noses aside, when the boxes containing 300 copies of “Wings Under Japan” finally arrived, the McCartney story was equally cold.

Friday.

Believe it or not, there isn’t a lot of demand for a record by a band that nobody’s heard of.

The records were delivered to stores, who tried their best to push it, but were fighting an uphill battle. The record was not a hit.  The 300 copies did eventually end up in the hands of the public.  There are no documents detailing any sales, so we do not know if the band sold them at shows, or by mail order, or any of the other quaint methods available in 1980.   Mr. McCartney never stumbled upon the record, as far as the evidence suggests.  At least, we know he hasn’t sued.  But could he even locate the Spastic Phono Band if he wanted to?  We could not.  Vic Trola has pulled a DB Cooper:  Taken the money (if any) and flown.

Though only the original 300 copies were made, we were able to track one down for this article.  It was clearly loved in its previous home.

Housed in a yellow-brown sleeve (the original?), the 45 has a nice maroon label, stating this is on Slipped Disc Records.  Charmingly, the song “Wings Under Japan” is split over the two sides…sides 3 and 4.  (It has been suggested that this release, with sides 3 and 4 instead of 1 and 2), gave George Lucas the idea to number The Empire Strikes Back as Episode V instead of Episode II as expected.  With that film releasing in May 1980, we cannot completely dismiss the claim.)

The track is just over seven minutes combined.

Leavin’ on a Japanese roadtrip,
Headin’ down a London runway,
Paul said ‘I need to bring along some good weed,
Because it helps me relax when I play.’

Guffaw!  The song begins with a spoof of “The Ballad of John and Yoko”, now called “The Ballad of Paul and Linda”, with a similar structure, but words about Paul.  “The way things are gooooin’, they’re gonna scrutinize me!”  And they did…but not long enough for the Spastic Phono Band.  The song continues.

Staring at the man with the baggie.
Paul said, ‘Maybe I’m amazed!
It only amounts to less than half an ounce,
Why do you have to get so carried away?’

In perhaps the most obvious yet fun twist, the song then goes into Wings’ “Hi Hi Hi”…but re-written as “High High High”.  This is funny because it’s so obvious, it had to be done.  It’s amazing nobody else did it.  Incidentally the harmony vocals in this section are rich and excellent.

Next up in the Paul medley is “Silly Love Songs”, redone as “Silly Drug Laws”.  “What’s wrong with drugs, I’d like to know, ’cause here I go again!  I’m in jail…”  Another example of great singing by the Spastic Phono Band, but listen to that 1970s groove and the dexterous bassline!  This is some serious playing.

Side “3” ends, and so we flip to side “4”.  Fortunately in the modern era, we can use our digital capture software to seamlessly edit the two into one track!  Next is “Band On the Run”, revised as “Banned In Japan”.  In this case, the original song is almost a medley of different sections itself.  The Spastic Phono Band do several of them here.  “Stuck inside these stone walls, might be here forever!”  There is a poignant moment coming here, frozen in time.  Little did they know that John Lennon had only months to live, for in December of 1980, he would be murdered in New York.  So to hear the line, “I’ll join with Ringo, and George and John and we’ll put the reunion on,” reminds us that finite period of time when such a thing was indeed possible.

A brief pause and then, just like on Abbey Road, wait for a Beatles-y coda.

“Wings Under Japan” is, quite frankly, one of the best parody medley songs (or however you want to describe it) you’ll ever find, for three reasons.

  1. The mystery.  Who are the Spastic Phono Band anyway?  We may never know.  (Or, more accurately…we may never tell.)
  2. The musical prowess.  There is some serious playing and singing on this brief single, and your life would be richer if you heard it.
  3. Though depicting events before some of you were born, the lyrics are still hilarious due to the timeless nature of weed jokes.

5/5 stars.

 

The Writer’s Room: Chapter Ten

The Writer’s Room: Chapter Ten

Harrison stumbled into the Writer’s Room more dishevelled than Mike had ever seen him before.  He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair had strands going hither and thon, though his moustache was still as impeccable as ever.  He looked a lot like Geezer Butler on this morning.

Mike was as perky as usual, sitting in his chair at the board table, sipping a hot coffee.

“Coffee?” he asked Harrison as the Australian Mad Metal Man took his seat.  Under his arm, a binder full of notes.  He opened the book and declined the drink.

“You look beat,” said Mike to Harrison with a tad of concern.

“It’s like your boys the Arkells say,” answered Harrison.  “We got deadlines to meet.”

It was true.  In addition to writing the Adventures of the Northern Lights, Mike and Harrison were also knee-deep in their latest project:  a series of videos called 50 Years of Iron Maiden.

“That’s why I called this meeting,” replied Mike.  “We both have a lot of stuff going on, especially with 50 Years of Iron Maiden.  I think we need to discuss priorities.”

Harrison nodded and agreed.  “I believe 50 Years of Iron Maiden should be our top priority now.  As far as our adventures go, we have for now calmed the Multiverse and there have not been further incursions from our Decepticon foes.  We have stopped the urgency of the fictional situations for now and introduced some intriguing threads.  I am OK if we take a break.”

Mike shrugged.  “That’s more or less what I was going to say, even though this is actually around the three year anniversary of our stories.”

Harrison thought a moment.  “I forgot that.  I don’t think it’s a big deal to anyone but us, though.”

“Here, you need to drink something,” said Mike as he poured Harrison a sparkling water from a local Canadian spring.  “A toast.  To three years of our superhero adventures…and 50 years of Iron Maiden.”

“Cheers,” said Harrison as he sipped.

“Cheers,” responded Mike.

They both enjoyed their drinks for a moment before Mike spoke.

“Alright, onto business.  Let’s see the art for the Seventh Son episode!  Allons-y!”

With that, Harrison opened his folder and the boys began jamming on ideas.  It would be a productive day.

The end…for now.

 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

The Northern Lights and the Glitch in the Matrix

 

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga

Chapter Four:  The Glitch in the Matrix

Starring:

  • Mike the Brainiac
  • Harrison El Moustachio
  • Aaron 
  • Jex Rambo
  • and a returning villain!

Walking through downtown Toronto, the four Northern Lights were incognito!  Aaron was wearing a long blonde wig.  The Brainiac had a fake moustache upon his face.  Moustachio, already having his own moustache, dyed his flesh tone so it could not be seen.  Jex wore a shirt as his disguise.  He was clearly uncomfortable, having cloth on his chest for a change.

“Mes amis, why am I wearing a shirt again?” he asked his companions.

“It’s like the Tommy Lee disguise: wearing a pair of pants!” answered the Brainiac.

“Non, non!” replied Jex.  “I understand.  But why are we wearing disguises?”

“I can answer that,” responded Moustachio.  “Mr. Durling has sent us to Toronto on a mission of utmost importance, and he doesn’t want us recognized.  He fears that if someone sees us here, they will attempt to find out what we’re looking for.”

Jex nodded in understanding.  “Makes sense,” he responded.  “After all, finding Rush Chronicles on vinyl has been a mission of his for many years.”

Aaron, the group’s navigator, was checking out road signs.  “I’m just finding my way here…Snow Dog records is about four blocks due west.”  He pointed straight ahead.  “The proprietor Bytor is an old friend of mine.  He’ll know where to find a copy in this city.”  Aaron swished his blonde locks out of his face.  “I can’t say I care for this wig though.  I’m not in the mood for this hair in my face.”

“Don’t complain!” commented Jex.  “I have to wear a shirt!  C’est nul!  Why can’t I just wear a hat or some sunglasses?”

“Because nobody would ever expect you to be wearing a shirt,” answered the Brainiac logically.  “We can wear the rose of romance, an air of joie de vivre, but we would be recognized too easily and tip off our enemies.”

“I think I’m going bald,” said Harrison as he rubbed his scalp, “but that’s neither here nor ‘hair’.”

“Hah-hah,” answered Aaron.  “Anyway we’ll be there in just a few more minutes.”

It was dark inside the Snow Dog record store, like a tomb of Hades lit by flickering torchlight.

“Hello?” asked Aaron as he rang the bell at the front counter.  Then, out of the lamplight emerged the owner, Bytor.  He was a large man with long brown beard and hair tied back in a ponytail.

“MR. BOOKS!” he proclaimed, embracing Aaron with a large bearhug.  “What’s with the Nelson wig, man?”

“That’s a long story.  It would take me at least 2112 pages to explain to you everything that’s happened since we last met.”  He paused and gestured to the other Northern Lights gathered in his store.  “These are my friends, Mike, Harrison and Jex.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” answered Bytor.  “What can I help you with today?”

Harrison, the man known as El Moustachio with an invisible moustache, stepped forward.  “We’re on a mission to retrieve a rare vinyl copy of Chronicles by Rush.  We’ve checked the subdivisions with no luck, so now we’re here in the big city.”  He stopped a moment to think.  “This is actually my first trip to Toronto,” he said.  “I’ve only ever seen Thunder Bay, Kitchener and Kincardine.”

Bytor laughed a big belly laugh.  “Thunder Bay, Kitchener and Kincardine?  Well you’ll find we have far more vinyl here in Toronto, entre-nous!”

“But do you have the record?” asked Jex.

“Rush Chronicles on vinyl?  I do not, but I have plenty of crates for you boys to dig through.  I’m sure you’ll find something.  I have Chronicles on cassette if you want that?”

“We’re on a mission from a very particular man,” answered Harrison.  “He only needs the vinyl and he is willing to pay top dollar.”

Bytor shook his head.  “Sadly I can’t help you.  Write down your information and I’ll be sure to call you if I see one, Mr. Top Dollar!”

Dejected, the quartet left their information and departed Snow Dog records.

“Well that was a waste of time,” said the Brainiac, usually the pessimistic one.  “Aren’t we even going to stay and go crate digging?”

“On Durling’s dime?  Are you crazy?  He’ll send the Night Ranger after us!” answered Moustachio.

Jex laughed at this.  “Non, non, mes amis, Tim Durling wouldn’t hurt a fly.  Let’s go back, let’s dig some crates!  What are we in a rush for?”  He paused and laughed at his own pun.

The quartet turned back and were shocked at what they saw.  Snow Dog records was no longer there!  A boarded up window with flyers stapled all over it was all they saw.  Brainiac stepped forward tentatively, and felt the plywood of the boards, not trusting his own eyes.

“Guys…what just happened?” he asked his three friends.

The four stared at the boards.  Moustachio scratched his head.  Aaron stood dumbfounded, brushing the hair out of his eyes, unbelieving.  Jex looked just as puzzled, while the Brainiac had fear in his eyes.

Aaron turned to look at his friends.  “That wasn’t just some fly by night record shop,” he told them.  “Snow Dog records opened in 1975!  They’ve been in this very spot for 50 years!  What is happening here?”

“A glitch in the matrix?” asked the Brainiac, only half joking.

“Or worse,” gulped Harrison, stroking his invisible moustache for comfort.  “I advise caution.”

“I agree mon ami,” nodded Jex.  “I suggest we retrace our steps.  Let me check the map on my phone to confirm our location.”

Jex took his phone from his shirt pocket while muttering something about how stupid it was that he had to wear a shirt.  He scrolled and blinked and scrolled some more.

“Guys…” he asked with a quaver in his voice.  “Do any of you have a signal?”  The other three took out their phones and held them up to the sky at various angles.  Brainiac shook his in his hand, while Aaron groaned.  No signals.

“It’s a trap,” whispered Harrison.  “We’re in a simulation.”

“What!?” asked the other three simultaneously (Jex in French).  “When did that happen?” asked the Frenchman.  “We all met at the Kincardine airport.  We drove straight here with one stop at Tim Horton’s.  Aaron got us parked, we walked, and about 20 minutes later we were at Snow Dog!  What was real and what was simulation?  This is freaking me out guys, I don’t mind telling you.”

Mike stepped over and rubbed his friend’s muscular shoulders.  Wow, he thought to himself.  This guy is built!  Aloud, he said something more comforting.  “It’s OK Jex.  We’re all here together, wherever we are.  Harrison and I have dealt with weirder stuff before.  Stick close.  We’re all going to get home.  Now, I suggest we all stay put.  Don’t move.  Just observe.  Look for anything out of the ordinary.”

Instinctively the group formed a circle, facing outward.  Jex was watching the traffic.  Mike had his eyes in the sky, looking towards the upper levels of buildings and beyond.  Aaron and Harrison carefully examined each and every person walking on the streets of simulated Toronto.

Harrison ahem’ed.  “I don’t mean to cause any alarm…but there are two of that man in the red hat.”  He pointed towards a tall man in a red toque.  “No, three…wait…”

The group began to realize there were duplicate copies of every person and every car.  Entire clusters of people and groups of cars would pass by them multiple times.  It was like a old fashioned cartoon where they just recycled all the same footage to save time and money.

Suddenly, Mike snapped his fingers.  “Solved it!”

“Huh?  How?” asked Moustachio.

“Repeated groups…over and over again…like an old style cartoon, when they had to repeat backgrounds and background characters over and over again to save time and money!  That’s the answer!  Who do we know that is stingy enough to go so cheap on a simulation like this?”

The group mumbled among themselves, but could not come to a conclusion.

“Cut to the chase Mike,” ushered Jex.  “Who’s behind this?”

Mike smiled.  “Did any of you guys watch Pam and Tommy on Disney+?”  The group shook their heads no.

“I have two kids Mike, I don’t know what TV is anymore!” chided Jex.

“Well, in that show, Tommy Lee stiffed the carpenter that was renovating his house, Seth Rogen.  Wouldn’t pay him.  That’s what triggered everything that happened.  Seth Rogen stole that VHS tape and sold it to recoup his costs and have some revenge on Tommy Lee.  Think about it!  Most of our enemies are super-rich!  Tommy Lee’s the only one who’s got a thing for going cheap on anything that isn’t his.  He wouldn’t pay for a full-on simulation!  He’d go cheap and half-ass it!  That’s who’s behind this!”

“I’ve never had the displeasure of encountering Mr. Lee in my adventures,” informed Harrison, “But I’ve read all the files.  Your predecessor, Brainiac I, had multiple encounters with Tommy Lee.  It is possible Lee has a vendetta.”

“A ven-whatta?” came a voice from above.  “My duuuuuuuuuudes!  You figured it out!!”

“Show yourself, Lee!” shouted Harrison to the simulated sky.

“Hahah, OK!  Sure thing, bro!”  Suddenly, before the group appeared four duplicates of Tommy Lee!  Simulated Tommy’s, all with the same grin on their faces.

“Grace under pressure, guys!” advised the Brainiac.

“How come he doesn’t have to wear a shirt, but I do??” asked Jex incredulously.

“I think we can take off our disguises,” answered the Brainiac.  “Show ‘im why you’re called Jex Rambo!”

With that, Jex ripped his shirt off and roared.  Aaron tore the wig from his head and put on his war face.  The Brainiac removed his fake moustache, and handed it to Harrison to compensate for his dyed one.

“Northern Lights…kick ass!” commanded the Brainiac.

The four Tommy’s rushed towards them while the Northern Lights took a defensive stance.  Aaron kicked one Tommy in the nuts.  Jex lifted one Tommy into the air, and threw him directly at another Tommy.  The last Tommy seemed to malfunction and ran right past the group, heading into a simulated tattoo parlour, presumably to get a simulated tattoo.

“Is that all you have, Lee?” taunted the Brainiac.  “Turn off this simulation and show yourself for real this time.  We’re unarmed.”  He raised his hands to prove a point.

Like moving pictures, the simulation…shifted.  Windows slid down into the ground, doors dissolved, and the sky changed to metal.  Time seemed to stand still.   Like an afterimage, the Toronto before them disappeared as if they were making memories.  Now, before them, were the shining silver walls of an alien flying saucer.

“Yeah dudes!  It’s me Tommy Lee from Motley Crue!  Welcome to the Bouncy Castle amigos!  That’s what I call this place, I like to hang here with my alien bros!”

“How long have we been aboard, Lee?” asked Harrison with caution.

“Dudes, you’ve been on this ship ever since you met up at the airport.  That wasn’t a car you got into, that was this ship!  See, we got some upgrades boys.  There’s a new boss in town and he’s not the same as the old boss: Uni-ball.”

“Unicron,” corrected Harrison.  “And yes I’ve met your boss.”

Merde! thought Jex to himself.  Tommy Lee works for Unicron now!

“And now, prepare for my boot in your ass!” exclaimed Lee as he launched himself towards the four.  Effortlessly, Jex took him down with a karate chop to the neck.

“OW!” screamed Lee in pain.  “Bro!!  That’s not cool man!”

“Well what did you expect, Tommy!?” asked Jex incredulously.  “Seriously!  And what the hell do you want anyway!”

Tommy Lee rubbed his tattooed neck with his tattooed hand, as he winced in pain.  “You didn’t have to do that, man!  I was just trying to get to know you guys a little better!  My boss, Uni-ball, told me to spy on you, so I figured I’d show you a good time.  A simulated record store seemed like something you’d enjoy, until it glitched up.”  Tommy seemed…apologetic.  “I wasn’t gonna hurt you guys.  Nobody got hurt, right?”

“You did,” laughed Harrison.

“Oh yeah!  I did!” laughed Tommy.

Aaron started to think.  He paused several moments, and then asked his question.  “Tommy…if you don’t wanna hurt anyone…why do you keep working for the bad guys?”

Tommy laughed.  “Dude, I wrote a song called ‘Bad Boy Boogie’!  I’m the bad boy of rock and roll!  Who else would I side with?”

“He’s got a point,” said the Brainiac.  “So Tommy, I guess this means you’re not interested in joining us, the good guys?  You realize that…Uni-ball..is going to eat the Earth, right?  He’s literally going to kill everyone you know.  That’s what he does.”

Tommy laughed again.  “Hahah, yeah dude!  I saw that movie too!  And I…don’t give a fuck!  Not about Earth!  Unicron is going to take me, my family, and my friends somewhere awesome after this.  I get to be king of my own planet dude!  Oh, don’t give me that look.  Fucking self-righteous superheroes!  You’d say yes too.  Especially since there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him.  You should be joining me, dudes.  You could hang out with me and all my buds in paradise for the rest of your lives, or longer!  Unicron says he can keep us alive forever.”

“As what?  A cyborg slave to him?  No thanks!” answered Moustachio.  “I speak for all of us when I say, no way.”

“No way!” echoed the other three.

“Well, fuck you!” said Tommy, as he spat on the ground.

“That does it,” said Jex in as calm a voice as he could muster.  He took three steps towards Tommy Lee, put him in a headlock, and a simultaneous standing leglock.  Tommy winced in pain.

“Ow, dude, stop, fuck!” moaned the Motley Crue drummer.

“This is what’s going to happen, Tommy.  You’re going to set us down somewhere safe, and you’re going to open those doors and lower that ramp.  Then, after we get off, you leave this planet.  Or, I break your neck.  Your choice Tommy.”  Jex was not kidding.

“But I got a gig at the Roxy next week!!” complained Tommy in pain.

“I do know one thing,” said Jex.  “One choice or another, you’re not making that gig next week.”  He tightened his grip.

“Fine fine let go!  I’ll…I’ll leave Earth,” submitted Tommy Lee, as Jex released his grip.  Lee took a remote control from his pocket and hit a button.  The doors to the craft opened, and a ramp lowered.  Outside, the four could see airplanes parked on a runway.

“We never left the airport!” gasped Aaron.

“Nah dude, why not park my spaceship at an airport, right?” said Tommy.

Mike shrugged.  “Makes sense.  Well, we’re not going to make it back to Toronto in time to go shopping anymore.  You guys may as well crash at the cottage tonight and we’ll make a go of it tomorrow.”  He then turned to Tommy Lee.  “You may have aliens, but we have a Jex.  You mess with us again, and he’ll make sure it’s the last time.  We clear?”

“Yeah dude,” mumbled Tommy.  He then raised the ramp.  “I just wanted to be friends, you dicks!” he yelled as the doors closed.

“Good riddance,” said Aaron.  “I never thought I’d say this in my life, but I never want to see Tommy Lee again.”

“Me neither,” said Harrison.  “But do you think that’s the last we’ll see of him?”

Jex grimaced.  “Not a chance.  He lied.  He’ll be back.  And when he does…”

“When he does,” cautioned Mike, “the Northern Lights will be there.”

The end.

 

 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

The More Things Change… The Adventures of the Northern Lights (By Harrison Kopp)

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga

Chapter Three:  The More Things Change…

Starring:

  • Harrison El Moustachio
  • Mike the Brainiac
  • Mr. Durling
  • Jexciter
  • Bernard
  • Some nasty monsters and knights!

It was a dark and stormy knight. And it wasn’t happy. Under a violet moon it kneeled amid the burnt rubble of what had once been the completely intact great hall of a once-formidable stronghold.

A blackened skeleton lay on the ground by him, surrounded by the fragments of a red guitar and a black helmet. A familiar helmet. A chill dropped over the already-cold mid Winter’s night.

Getting to his feet, the stormy knight let out a piercing scream, as thunder and lightning raged all around.

Whoever did this was going to pay.

 

 

“So what do you think?” Tim Durling asked El Moustachio, gesturing to a computer screen. The two were in the midst of planning Moustachio’s new secret lair. After all, when he returned to Australia, he would need a state of the art HQ to lead the Australian division of the Northern Lights from.

“It looks great. I can’t believe you got a real transporter system working,” Moustachio gushed. “Soon we’ll be able to meet up all over the world in seconds.”

“Analog’s the trick, every time,” Tim replied with a smile.

“Where’s that door lead?” Moustachio asked, eyeing a rectangle on the northern wall.

“Straight to the garage,” Tim replied.  “For easy access to the Interceptor.”

Moustachio nodded sagely, agreeing with the sentiment.  “You know, if we move the desk slightly, I reckon we can fit in another shelf of CDs there,” he began to say.

Unfortunately, the pair’s discussions were rudely interrupted by a flashing red light that beeped incessantly, demanding the undivided attention of the room’s occupants.

“Hang on a sec,” Tim said, pressing a button on the console in front of him.

A video feed appeared. It looked like it was in a European forest somewhere.

“We took the liberty of placing cameras at the sites of some of your previous battles,” Tim explained. “Just in case anything happened there we’d want to investigate. And it looks like one of the squirrel drones in Romania has spotted something interesting.”

The two men watched the video. The camera panned over to a damaged castle. From inside were bright flashes of light accompanied by cracks of thunder.

This location was, of course, Infernum Keep, the former stronghold of Count Infernus. The vampiric warlord may have been long dead, but that didn’t mean his effects hadn’t caused a lot of trouble for people in the years since.

Almost two years ago, Tee Bone Man fought a group of Satan’s knights there to stop them getting their hands on a veritable doomsday device. The castle had been set alight during those events, but judging from the video feed they had just received, most of the stonework had survived with just a little charring.

Moustachio had been peripherally involved in that adventure, but hadn’t travelled to Romania. This time things were probably going to be a little different.

“That doesn’t look good.” Moustachio mused. “I still remember the trouble this place caused the first time. We’d better investigate.”

“I agree. Something untoward appears to be happening there. And with this location we can’t take any chances. Take Jex and the team there and get to the bottom of this,” Tim instructed the Australian.

“I’ve already let Brainiac know. He’s swung by Jex’s to pick him up.” He continued. “They should meet you at the airport, where I’ve arranged a plane for you.”

“What about you?” Moustachio asked.

“I’m sorry but I’ve got to monitor a mission Night Ranger is about to go on,” Tim replied, rolling up one of his green sleeves to glance at his watch. “He really needs someone in the chair or else he can go off the rails a bit.”

“Alright then, looks like I’ve got some packing to do,” Moustachio replied.

 

 

It was approximately six hours later, and Moustachio was arriving in the waiting lounge. Jex and Brainiac had already made themselves at home, and welcomed the Australian.

“Moustachio! Glad you made it. Sorry to cut your visit to Durling Foundation HQ short, but this is quite important,” Jex said.

“I agree. There’ll be plenty of time for interior decorating later,” Moustachio replied.

“So what do you remember of the castle?” Brainiac asked him.

“Actually, I never went to Romania,” Moustachio replied. “But Tim’s supplied us with a mission report from Tee Bone Man to read on the flight over. That should give us all the info we need.”

“Tim’s a smart man,” Brainiac mused, to nods all around.

While this was happening, the airport intercom decided this was the moment to move the plot along.

“Now boarding flight TVC-Force-1 at gate 3.”

“That’s our flight,” Jex said, grabbing his bags and heading in the direction of the gate.

It wasn’t long before they were on the plane, to find to their delight that the Durling Foundation had spared no expense with their members’ jet.

“Woo! Look at these chairs! So comfortable!” Brainiac cried as he leaned back.

“Ah, legroom!”, Moustachio sighed, stretching out his longer-than-average legs with plenty of room to spare.

The group got comfortable as the pilots began their pre-flight checks, and it wasn’t long before they were in the air.

 

 

Given the journey was going to take more than a couple hours, our heroes had decided to try and get some sleep before their mission. But this was rudely interrupted by some turbulence as they neared the airport. A lot of turbulence, actually. The cause was immediately apparent by looking out the window.

An unnaturally large thunderstorm was looming on the horizon.

“There’s no way we can go through that,” the copilot said, looking at the weather radar display.

“We’ll have to divert,” the captain replied, agreeing with him. “Braşov is nearby. We can make that with the fuel we have. New heading 165.”

“New heading 165,” the copilot echoed, as the plane began to turn with the input.

In the passenger compartment, the captain’s voice came over the intercom.

“Attention, this is your captain speaking. We’ll have to divert to Braşov to land. It’s a day’s travel from where you want to be, but we have no choice alas. I’ve contacted the Durling Foundation, and they’ll have transport arranged for you when you arrive.

This route still took them on the outskirts of the storm, which posed no small danger. The storm seemed alive, and it was as if the lightning was targeting the plane itself. It appeared their secret voyage wasn’t as secret as they had hoped. Moustachio was certainly glad when they finally hit terra firma again.

And sure to the captain’s word, a coach was waiting to take them to the village by Infernum Keep. As they sat down and got comfortable, Moustachio looked out the window. That storm couldn’t be natural.

“This is going to be a tough one buddy. You sure you’re up to this?” he asked the small black squirrel on his shoulder.

The squirrel gave him an exaggerated salute.

“Awesome. You know I feel safer with you around.”

The whole group got comfortable, and the coach set off on its journey. They were able to get ample rest, but couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the real storm.

 

 

Later that evening, our heroes finally arrived in the village. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the houses and buildings. By popular vote it had been decided that the team would source dinner first. Finding the Olde Mill Inn was not difficult, but as they entered they were nearly bowled over by the volume of one of the inhabitants.

“My friends! Let us feast to this momentous occasion!” cried a voice in a suspiciously old English accent. The source of this, they shortly discovered, was none other than the knight Bernard.

Bernard had been a member of the Northern Lights for a while now, but was rarely seen as he preferred to remain mobile, helping those in need across the globe. But when he received Tim’s messenger pigeon urging this situation to be of the utmost importance, he procured the fastest horse he could.

A veritable banquet had been prepared, and our heroes were all too ready to accept, digging in with gusto. Much food was eaten. Laughs were had. Stories were shared. Bernard had plenty of tales from his time as a medieval knight, and Moustachio regaled the group with his exploits across the multiverse. But all good things must come to an end, and so with the emptying of plates and bowls, it was time to begin the adventure proper.

Jex began to make for the door, but Brainiac piped up with a very valid point.

“Let’s ask around the village a bit first. Maybe they know something, and we can have some idea of what we’ll be walking into. Plus we don’t want to be walking into an adventure with just-filled stomachs now, do we?”

Our heroes nodded, and all set out to glean any reconnaissance that they could. When the group reconvened, it turned out they really weren’t all that much more informed than before.

“Really? That’s all they know?” Jex asked. “We could tell that watching a camera feed from halfway across the globe.”

“You can’t really blame them,” Moustachio replied. “Would you like to investigate the mysterious castle where people are disappearing?”

“Fair point. Well, where are we going from here then?”

“I guess it’s time to head in,” Moustachio said, turning towards the hill the castle was situated on.

As our heroes neared the front gate, the effects of the previous battle here began to become much more apparent. Not even the twisted oak hanging tree by the westmost tower had survived the destruction wrought here all those moons ago.

Scorch marks covered the walls of the keep, and several parts of the building had crumbled away from the fire damage. Most of the castle still appeared to be staying up (just a little worse for wear) but there was no telling what internal damage had occurred. They’d have to watch their step inside.

As they approached, three black crows flew from the tree to the tallest tower high above. Moustachio could not shake the sense of foreboding that troubled him.

As the Northern Lights entered the once-grand hall, the devastating effects of Tee Bone Man’s battle were truly laid bare. A thick layer of ash covered most of the room, and what remained of any recognisable banisters or sculptures had been nightmarishly distorted by the heat.

“I’m not sure I want to have been here the first time,” Moustachio said, cautiously stepping forward.

“Where are we going from here? What’s the fastest way to the throne room?” Jex asked.

“Through here, I think,” Moustachio replied, motioning towards a door on the right.

The Australian took a couple steps into this room, followed by Bernard. The other two men would have continued this retinue, were it not for a portcullis slamming down in the doorway, separating them into two groups. Somewhere up above a bell began to toll.

 

 

“Oops,” Moustachio said, raising his foot and revealing he had stepped on a booby-trapped tile.

Jex grabbed hold of the bars and tugged hard, but they did not budge in the slightest.

“We don’t have time,” Brainiac said. “We have to clear our of here before we’re cornered. Continue on. We’ll meet up with you further up.”

Moustachio nodded and turned towards the exit of the room. Bernard followed him, looking upwards at the ceiling to try and see if there were any more traps lying in wait above. He’d hate to share Catherine Howard’s fate (His old Lady. A tale for another day.)

The other two men turned back towards the great hall. There options weren’t great. One of the doors was blocked by rubble, and they couldn’t risk wasting time trying any on the upper level. The sound of clattering and clamouring was getting closer, as the bell continued to ring above. There was only one option left.

“Quick, in here!”Jex said, flinging open the door opposite the one that was blocked by the portcullis, and entering cautiously.

They seemed to be an antechamber of some kind. A cloakroom was off to the side. Probably not the best place to hide, in all consideration. They quickly crossed the room and entered into a very large open hall.

Before the fire it appeared to have been a spectacular dining hall, but now more resembled a deadly game of hopscotch. Several large portions of the floor had burned away, creating a long drop into the blackness of the cellar below.

“I don’t like the look of this room.” Jex called over his shoulder.

“I don’t think we have the time to double back to the main hall and look for another option. We’ll just have to chance it.” Brainiac replied.

The two men cautiously ventured forth, making sure to take distinct routes to avoid overloading the charred wooden planks with too much weight. This worked until they both converged on one bottleneck spot. There was no avoiding this. The Brainiac went first, with Jex very tenderly following after.

Unfortunately, the added weight of the muscle-bound hero was too much for the rotting beams to take. With an almighty crash, the floor gave way and Jex and the Brainiac were sent plummeting down into the cellar below.

Landing in the flooded bottom of the cellar didn’t render any injuries unto our heroes, but it certainly knocked the wind out of them. However, it didn’t take them long to realise they weren’t alone here. A shifting mass towards the end of the room made a dissatisfied noise and began to unravel itself.

It was difficult to make out in the gloom, but it appeared to be a giant snake of some sorts. Which was very bad news for the two regular size humans that had just so invitingly entered its lair, waist-high in alcohol and sewerage.

 

Up above, Moustachio and Bernard were not having much luck either. A mysterious creature was very close, perhaps only a room away. The two men had to tread very carefully. Moustachio led the way, having studied some old plans of the castle on the flight over. Thankfully they were approaching a stairwell and would soon have some breathing space. Or so they thought.

The Australian peeked around the corner, and his blood froze cold. There, blocking the entrance to the stairwell, was Frankenstein’s monster himself.

“It’s the monster,” Moustachio whispered to Bernard. “He’s blocking the door.”

“The vultures will dine on his head tonight,” Bernard whispered back, reaching for his sword.

“Let’s not rush into combat so hastily,” the Australian counseled, pushing Bernard’s hilt back into the scabbard.

“We’ll have plenty fighting to do later, I’m sure. Let me try something,” Moustachio said with a smile, ducking away to confront the creature.

The Australian straightened his moustache and sauntered out into the room, doing his best to look officious.

The monster growled and began to stagger towards him. Steeling himself, and in his best approximation of a Scottish accent, Moustachio began to speak.

“Don’t take that tone with me my good man! Now buttle off and tell Ispahsalar Infernus that Lord Clarence McDonald and his lovely assistant are here to view the tapestries.”

The creature faltered in its advance, clearly unsure how to proceed. Moustachio, sensing an opening, continued.

“I’ll have you know, inspecting tapestries is a serious business. A man in Serbia was killed when a poorly attached tapestry fell and smothered him. Imagine the shame on the Infernus name if one of the many pieces in this castle were to fall upon poor prospective buyer Mickey Mouse.”

The creature, perhaps simply only to extricate himself from this very confusing situation, walked off through a door to the left and ascended a set of stairs. Both of them knew there’d be plenty of time to bump into one another again.

Moustachio turned back to face the also-confused Bernard.

“You know, I’m surprised that worked myself. Come on, let’s get going before he works out Ispahsalar isn’t a Romanian military rank.”

Bernard obliged, following Moustachio up the staircase to the next floor.

Back in the cellar, Brainiac and Jex were running out of things to throw. They’d been able to keep the giant snake at bay on the other side of the room with a steady supply of wine bottles and amphoras, but they wouldn’t be able to do this forever. Brainiac tossed the last of the dandelion wine, and then reached for the last box of bottles.

“Not that one!” Jex cried, holding Brainiac’s arm. “That’s a 1458 vintage!”

“Bloody hell Jex!” Brainiac replied, putting the bottle away and reaching for another. “There’s only two left now.”

The situation looked dire. But a small neuron fired in Jex’s head, boarded his train of thought, and arrived in his memory core.

“I have an idea!” Jex cried. “Remember the tomb of Sir Richard in The Last Crusade?”

“How could I forget.” Brainiac answered, already flipping a large crate over and reaching for a flare in his backpack. Waiting until Jex was under a box of his own, Brainiac lit the flare and held it aloft. The red light illuminated the dark room, and the Canadian could see that the serpent seemed somewhat mesmerized by the flare.

Taking advantage of this, Brainiac hurled the flare towards the far end of the room.

“God save the keg,” he said before quickly getting under his upturned box. The instant the flare hit the sea of alcohol, the room ignited into a furious firestorm. Jex and the Brainiac remained safe under their boxes, but the snake was not so fortunate. It writhed and hissed in pain as it burned to death over the course of the next few moments.

The two upturned boxes, meanwhile, floated across the burning liquid as their occupants directed them towards the exit door. Choosing their moment, Jex and Brainiac emerged unscathed from underneath and ascended the staircase back to the ground level of the castle.

 

Much higher up, Bernard and Moustachio had made it to the room on the map that was indicated to contain the entrance to the throne room. But instead of a double spiral staircase, there was only a barren brick wall.

Maybe it was remodeled at some point? Or the layout was changed while building? Moustachio thought to himself. No, this room is the only one that is directly below the throne room. It has to be here somewhere, hidden. There must be a mechanism for unlocking it.

The Australian began to look around, desperate to find any clue as to how to reveal the hidden staircase. His eyes drifted to two lion statues set against either end of the wall. Each one had a recess in its forehead.

“Bingo,” Moustachio said, turning to Bernard. “We need to find two crystals that fit into those statues. That should trigger a mechanism that will reveal the staircase.”

Bernard nodded, and the two men set about vigilantly searching the room. There were a number of desks and draws to look through, which hampered proceedings. Moustachio checked behind what he presumed was a self-portrait of Count Infernus himself, expecting a hidden safe.

“Blast,” he cursed, as his search came up fruitless.

He moved onto the small mahogany desk underneath the portrait. Throwing open a drawer, he began to impatiently rifle through it. The contents were mostly letters addressed to all manner of people. One caught his eye though, as the name on the front was Adorian Tepes. What did Infernus possibly want with a famed Vampire hunter?

“Found it!” Bernard exclaimed from across the room, pulling a large ruby out of a teapot on a desk. “Have you the other one?”

“No. I’ve checked everywhere in here. The other one could be anywhere in this massive castle,” Moustachio moaned. “Oh wait. Oh no. I saw a blue gem of roughly the same size on the monster’s belt as it was leaving.”

“Marvelous,” Bernard said, entirely sarcastically.

“Well we’d better get back down there and find him I suppose,” Moustachio sighed. “Bring the other crystal with you. We don’t want to risk someone snatching it while we’re away.”

“Do you have a plan for getting the other one?” Bernard asked, while retrieving the red gem.

“I think I’m going to let my little friend take the lead on that,” Moustachio said, with a sly smile as he looked to Ripper on his shoulder.

 

Further down below in the castle, Jex and Brainiac were very carefully creeping along. There was no telling what horrors could be patrolling the castle, and they’d hate to have to face down any number of them.

They were approaching a corner when Jex silently held a fist up, indicating to the Brainiac behind him to stop. From the room beyond the sound of liquid cascading could be heard. A few seconds later it would go silent, then resume. This couldn’t be a natural occurrence. Someone had to be in the room.

Jex inched to the edge of the wall and very slowly peered around. The sight before him was mildly confusing to say the least. There appeared to be a corpse slumped against the far wall, pouring alcohol directly into the open top of his neck.

You see, this was the Headless Horseman, who Tee Bone Man had encountered the last time they were here. Tee Bone Man had left the crownless-cavalryman to burn with the castle, but it seems he was a little harder to kill than anticipated. His horse, however, didn’t seem to have such luck, making him now more of a headless, horseless man.

“Do you think he’s a threat?” Jex asked.

“Only to himself, by the look of it,” Brainiac replied. “He doesn’t seem to have taken his defeat to Tee Bone Man too well.”

Indeed, the Horseman had become somewhat of an alcoholic of late, if the contents of the room (mostly empty bottles) were anything to go by. This also explained the relative lack of bottles in the cellar below.

“Why don’t we try a little diplomacy?” the Brainiac asked, stepping out into the room.

“Hello there!” He spoke. “My friend and I have no quarrel with you. We’re just here to investigate the upper tower’s new resident.”

The Horseman turned his neck slightly, as if angling an ear towards the sound. Brainiac took this as interest on the listener’s part, and an opportunity to continue.

“If there’s anything you can do to help us find him, it would be greatly appreciated. Regardless, we will be one our way within moments to leave you to your drinking.”

A pause filled the room for what felt like minutes, until the Horseman finally moved. Wordlessly (as usual) the Horseman threw a bottle against the far wall. It struck a slightly off-coloured brick, which moved inwards with the impact.

A grinding sound then filled the room as hidden mechanisms in one of the walls began to move after such a long time of inaction. Slowly but surely a secret passage was revealed.

“Thank you,” the Brainiac said to the Horseman as he followed Jex into the passage.

 

Upstairs the clock ticked on. Moustachio and Bernard were tearing back up the castle, blue crystal in hand. They had no idea when the monster would notice the missing crystal, or how long it would take him to catch up, but they certainly didn’t want to find out.

After an eternity of winding corridors and tiring staircases, they were finally back in the room with the statues. Each with a crystal in hand, they stood before the lion statues, poised. Moustachio nodded, and the two placed their crystals in their respective recesses in the lion statues’ heads.

Immediately the sound of stone grinding filled their ears, as an imposing spiral staircase began to form out of the wall between the two statues. Moustachio knew this would lead to the throne room, which was the very room from the squirrel drone’s video footage.

“Should we wait for our allies?” Bernard asked, looking up the passage that had just been created.

Moustachio thought for a moment.

“I don’t think we can afford to. The monster will surely have heard the noise. If we don’t face whatever’s in that room soon, we may have to contend with both it and Frankenstein’s monster at the same time. “

“Very well.” Bernard nodded. “I can see your wisdom. I just only hope this goes better than that night at Eggerseberg.” (Another tale of Bernard’s. Perhaps there’ll be a chapter dedicated to them in the future.)

The knight then followed Moustachio in ascending the staircase to the top of the tower.

“Why can’t we be the ones they’re scared of? Coming out of the goddam walls and all that. I’d prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around,” Jex moaned, evidently wanting something to punch.

“When you have sharp teeth, claws and demonic wings you can do the stalking. But for now we have to keep a low, quiet, profile.”

Jex began to mutter under his breath, no doubt cursing the rotten luck that they never got to investigate any gyms.

“Shh!” Brainiac hissed, as the sound of a creature walking on the other side of the wall could be heard.

After a short time the sound faded and Jex let out a breath.

“Let’s hope we get were we’re going soon.” He said, squeezing around a pipe. “It’s going to be tough to fight in here if we get discovered.”

“I think it’s this way.” Brainiac motioned, looking at some bloody writing on the wall. “I hope our friends have had better luck, wherever they are.”

 

The jury was still out on whether encountering the being before them constituted good or bad luck. It probably depended on how the soon-to-occur fight went. Moustachio and Bernard stood at the precipice of the room, peaking around the doorframe.

The room was vast, seemingly bigger on the inside that it had looked from down below. An inner ring of bookshelves created a small haven in the middle, while more bookcases lined the outer walls. One of the room’s corner’s was destroyed, opening out into the cool night air.

On the opposite end a large stained glass window framed a dark being. He was clad in a black garb that almost absorbed the light around, with a large pilgrim hat sitting atop his head. Situated on the cone of the hat was a large yellow eye that swiveled around the room, searching.

“I know you’re here,” The dark being’s voice rang out. “You merely delay the inevitable scurrying like rats back there.”

Exchanging a look, the Moustachio and Bernard cautiously entered the room

“Good, good,” The being spoke. “I have been waiting just for you. You killed my brother the Black Knight. Now I will finally have my revenge.”

“I think he’s confusing us with Tee Bone Man,” Moustachio whispered to Bernard. “But I don’t think telling him that is going to end well.”

“Then I will be sure to tell him my name when I run him through with my sword,” Bernard replied.

“And what is your name then?” Moustachio called out to the man across the room. “For we will need to know what to put on your tombstone when we bury you next to him.”

“I am the More Black Knight,” the More Black Knight said, as Moustachio tried to hold his laughter in. “And I shall not be the one to die tonight.”

The More Black Knight drew back imposingly, but before anyone in the room could react, a bookcase on the north wall creaked open to reveal a passage from which emerged Jex and the Brainiac.

 

“The thing is,” the Brainiac mused, “how much more black than black can you really be?”

“Well, none more black,” Jex continued. “Black is black. Anything even slightly less dark is just a very dark grey. And there’s no such thing as a darker shade of black.”

“SILENCE!” the More Black Knight roared, interrupting the impromptu discussion. “Your trivialities matter none. Revenge will be mine tonight.”

Wasting no more time, he whipped his cloak off and readied his weapon- a large, mystical scythe. His eyes began to glow an electric cyan, and a dark aura surrounded him.

“This is no ordinary foe,” Bernard said, as the More Black Knight began to advance. “We will need a weapon of immense power. Can you buy me some time to get down to the armoury?”

“Consider it bought.” Moustachio replied, drawing his boomerang and advancing on the More Black Knight.

Brainiac and Jex joined him, as Bernard turned and ran towards the exit. His trip was stopped almost immediately, however, by the arrival of Frankenstein’s monster at the top of the stairwell. The creature reached for Bernard, but was summarily knocked sideways out of the way by one very muscly human’s shoulder.

“Go!” Jex cried, engaged in a grapple with the hulking monster.

Bernard tore off down the stairs as Brainiac and Moustachio squared up against the More Black Knight. Brainiac ignited his lightsaber and brought it up to guard. The distinctive red crossguard design cast a scarlet glow across his face as he and Moustachio began to duel the More Black Knight.

Brainiac made the first strike, bringing his lightsaber down with force on the More Black Knights scythe. How Brainiac expected this to go was probably to see his blade slice right through the scythe. How it actually happened was that the mystical weapon met the lightsaber and blocked it without even a hint of damage. The impact nearly knocked the saber from Brainiac’s grip, as Moustachio unleashed his attacks to similar fruitlessness.

“I’ve been looking forward to this!” the More Black Knight cackled, as he effortlessly kept his two assailants at bay.

 

Across the room, Jex and Frankenstein’s monster were locked in mortal combat. Gripping each other’s shoulders they slammed each other into the walls, bookshelves and, occasionally, the other combatants in the room.

Jex was not as strong as the monster and he knew it, but he did have a brain. And that gave him a distinct tactical advantage. Knowing how to use the strength he did have was going to be what won him this battle.

Jex allowed himself to be maneuvered towards the corner of the room that was broken and opened out into the night. Baiting the monster into lunging for him, Jex nimbly rolled out of the way. Before the monster could react, the shirtless Canadian grabbed him and hoisted him into the air.

However, a second before Jex was about to throw the monster down, the bolts in its neck attracted the next lightning strike. With a thunderous crack the high-powered electricity flowed through both bodies, knocking them both to the ground, smoking. Frankenstein’s monster twitched a few times, before lying still. Jex didn’t move at all.

“Jex!” Moustachio cried.

The More Black Knight took advantage of the distraction and slammed the blunt end of his scythe into Moustachio’s chest. Imbued with mystical energy, the impact sent the Australian flying. Moustachio sailed across the room, striking a bookshelf and falling to the ground under a pile of arcane literature.

Brainiac, now currently the sole opponent of the More Black Knight attempted to finish the fight quickly, heavily striking at his opponent multiple times in a row. But this made him careless and the More Black Knight, anticipating the next strike, was able to neatly excise Brainiac’s weapon from his hand with a flourish of his blade.

Brainiac’s lightsaber hilt flew across the room, disappearing into a shadowy corner.

The More Black Knight levelled his weapon at Brainiac’s chest and began to laugh.

“You’ve failed. There’ll be no second chance for you.”

Brainiac frantically glanced around the room as the More Black Knight continued to gloat.

“And now you die – hurk!”

The dark being doubled over in pain, unable to make good on his threat. Clutching his stomach, he tried vainly to remove the glowing sword embedded in it. From behind him Bernard emerged, kicking the More Black Knight onto the ground. Without so much as even batting an eye at his dying enemy, Bernard calmly walked past, pulling the sword from its moorings in the More Black Knight’s back.

“Thanks Bernard,” The Brainiac said. “You really showed him.”

“Indeed.” Bernard replied. “We are lucky Mr Infernus decided to keep such holy weapons here, apparently safely away from his enemies. Mr Morris’s sword was exactly what I needed to slay this foul creature.”

But things were not over yet. From the ground the sound of their foe’s laughter could be heard. A foe that had been thought vanquished. The sound of the low, hoarse chuckling chilled their spines they turned back to look at the More Black Knight’s “corpse”. His body had begun to writhe and bubble, as massive fleshy growths began to take form on his rapidly expanding body. Ripper let out a hiss and retreated back behind Moustachio’s leg. Moustachio, having extricated himself from the pile of books, was regretting that decision and rather wished there was someone’s leg he could hide behind.

 

The twisted monstrosity before them was unlike anything they had seen before. Towering above them was the upper torso of the More Black Knight, sprouting out of a hairy black spider’s thorax. Eight large legs protruding from the large body kept this knightmare  balanced. It spoke, but from where the voice came from could not be discerned, as what passed for a face was now dominated by piercing yellow eyes.

“My powers have increased exponentially since you may have last seen me, Bernard,” The creature sneered. “Now your fate is written in the stars. Perish, like the rest of your kin!”

With a roar the creature charged forward, catching Bernard in the midriff with a leg and slamming him against the stone wall. The knight sank to his knees, dazed. Laughing, the spider creature raised a leg, preparing to squash the fair knight.

But Moustachio wasn’t about to let that happen. He hurled his boomerang into the space between the two, with Ripper hanging on for dear life as it sailed across the room.

At the moment the boomerang was positioned in front of the spider creature, Ripper leapt from it, landing on the More Black Knight’s face and obscuring his vision.

Bernard got to his feet and ran off behind a bookcase, at which point the black squirrel very gratefully leapt off the creature’s face and scurried under a bookcase to hide for the rest of the battle (though he would tell you it was to look for Brainiac’s lightsaber).

“Thanks Ripper!” Moustachio yelled as he caught his boomerang. The spider-creature then turned its attention to him.

“Eeep,” Moustachio squeaked.

 

The situation was infinitely worse now. The creature, though big, was still smaller than the room and able to maneuver around it with no trouble. And it was fast. The Northen Lights had several close calls in a manner of seconds, barely able to dive away in time before a giant spider limb slammed down.

In a brief moment of respite when the creature was on the other side of the room, Brainiac quickly turned to Moustachio.

“I have an idea. Can you keep it occupied for a minute?”

Moustachio gave him a look that suggested that he could, but that if people kept asking for him to cover them, things might not end well for him.

“Just call my name, I’ll be there,” Brainiac yelled over his shoulder as he ran back into the darkness of a corner. Taking a moment to hide behind a bookcase, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Please pick up. Please pick up.” he repeated, nervously looking up at the shadow of the moon in the window above.

“Hello?” came a Canadian voice from the other end.

“Yes!” the Brainiac cried. “Aaron, how quickly can you get something to the rooftop of a Romanian castle?”

“Would you like it gift-wrapped or just plain packaging?” the voice of Aaron of the KMA said from the other end.

“You’re a legend! Ok, here’s what we need…”

Across the room Moustachio was breathing heavily. Every dodge drained him of strength. The margins were getting thinner. Eventually he was going to be too slow. And he couldn’t even begin to think about an offensive.

Bernard was doing his best too, but both men were tiring, and the More Black Knight could tell. He was unrelenting in his attacks.

“Mike! We need you here!” Moustachio called over his shoulder. “All together, we can vanquish him!”

“Your hope is foolish,” The creature gloated. “A thousand men have tried. A thousand failed. You have no chance.”

“I dunno about that,” Brainiac said, holding an RPG. “We call this a rocket launcher, and I suspect they didn’t have these over in the land of darkness.”

Before the mutant spider-knight could react, the Canadian fired.

The rocket tore across the room as Bernard and Moustachio dove for cover. It struck the creature directly on the body, engulfing it in fire and knocking it through the window of the room.

The flaming spider-creature plummeted down the side of the tower, before coming to an abrupt stop on the spikes of the gate down on ground level.

After a few tentative seconds, Moustachio peered down.

“It’s hard to tell from this height, but I think that’s done it.”

Indeed, the great big spider’s legs had curled upwards, and a very large amount of blood was beginning to pool outwards from the body.

Wasting no time, Brainiac rushed to Jex’s side and began checking on the unconscious man.

“He’ll be alright,” Brainiac said, looking up at Bernard and Moustachio.

“Let’s get back to the village then,” Moustachio replied. “We can rest up there for a bit before we head back home.”

 

“A toast!” Bernard cried. “To all our yesterdays and their gifts. But more importantly to tomorrow. To the friends passed and to those I now have the privilege to call.”

“Hear hear,” Came the replies from the three other men at the table.

 

 

Meanwhile, far far away in the depths of Hell Satan stood and watched silently. Within the crystal ball before him he could see the remains of the More Black Knight. It wasn’t unexpected, but he had to admit he was disappointed in the totality of the More Black Knight’s failure. Especially after Satan had so helpfully directed him to the ones responsible for his brother’s fate.

It looks like the devil would indeed have some adversity to overcome the next time he tried to conquer rock heaven. Turning to face one of his demonic servants, he began to speak.

“Patch me through to Unicron. I think he’d be quite interested in knowing the capabilities of earth’s new heroes.”

The lord of hell began to laugh. At first a low sound, but soon it erupted into guffaws that echoed all throughout the dark stronghold. Oh yes, Unicron would be most interested in this.

And though few who witnessed it could truly know its significance, all across the realms of the multiverse the Morning Star glowed a bright crimson.

 

HE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

The Return of Dr. K: Adventures of the Northern Lights

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS – Phase 3 – The Unicron Saga

Chapter Two:  The Return of Dr. K

Starring:

  • Mike the Brainiac
  • Harrison El Moustachio
  • Jen
  • Ripper the Squirrel
  • Max the Axe
  • Señor Spielbergo
  • and a sweet  vintage white Citroën 11 Légère Cabriolet

Friday.

“Well, this is going to be awkward,” said the man known as Moustachio to his friend, Brainiac II.  Both were ensconced in comfy chairs on the front deck of Northern Lights HQ.  They had a wonderful view of Lake Huron, as the breeze cooled their skin in the summer heat.  All was peace.  Though they were technically “on duty”, there hadn’t been a sign of danger in months.  Until now.

A small blue car with a Triforce logo on it was pulling into the driveway of the cottage next door.

“Is that who I think it is?” asked an excited Braniac.

“Doctor Kathryn,” gulped Moustachio.

Brainiac noticed the moustachioed man’s trepidation.  “Hey, what’s wrong buddy?  My sister is awesome.”

“That’s just it,” sweated Moustachio, suddenly not feeling cool at all.  “Your sister might not be too happy to meet the gene donor for your counterpart’s assassin.”

Brainiac blinked.  “Say that again?  I’ve had like two of these already,” said Mike while holding a can of his favourite strawberry cream soda “adult” beverage.

Moustachio spoke slower for him.  “It was my clone, Shinzon, that killed the ‘original’ you, the brother she knew.  Mr. Durling says that even though Shinzon is gone from this universe, she still might have…not a grudge precisely…maybe some negative feelings towards me, and by extension, maybe you too.”

“Ah!” smiled Brainiac.  “No problem.  I’ll just go over and say hello!”

Moustachio grabbed him by the shoulder.  “Not yet.  I’ve been preparing for this eventuality, and I’ve been reading her file.  Let her unpack first.  She doesn’t like unplanned guests.  The file was very specific on that.  According to the dossier…which I assume you have read…once she sent two vicious Schnauzers after a neighbour who merely wanted to borrow a cup of sugar.”

“Of course I read the dossier,” lied Brainiac II.  “But yeah, that is all true about her.  I’ll bring a peace offering.”

The two watched Dr. K unpack her vehicle.  To their surprise, dog after dog after dog poured out of the back seat.  They all ran in an orderly line to the front door of the cottage, waiting to be let in.

“Good doggies at least,” commented Brainiac II.

“Vicious killers,” whispered Moustachio.  “Hey, where is Ripper?  He should stay clear of those beasts.”

As if on cue, a little black squirrel hopped down from a nearby pine, and landed squarely on Moustachio’s shoulder.

“Stay with me, Ripper,” instructed Moustachio.  The squirrel nodded in the affirmative.

Brainiac and Moustachio hung back on the deck, with Ripper standing by, until Dr. K was done unpacking.  Eventually, she emerged from the cottage with two dogs on leashes.

“She’s walking the dogs,” alerted Brainiac.  “I’m going in.”

The two dogs led the way, one light brown and rather mutt-ly in appearance, the other a dark Schnauzer.  Both growled as the stranger appeared on the roadway in front of them.

“Grrrr!” alerted the brown one to the black one.

The man approached.  He had his hands in the air and was holding a frozen salmon.

“Hello!” he said in an awkward but friendly voice.  “Long time no see!”

The girl in red with the sunglasses pulled back on the dog leashes.  They both heeled, one on her right and one on her left.

“More like long time, never seen you before in my life,” she said with a warning tone.

“It’s me…Brainiac…your brother!  I bring you the gift of fish!  You don’t eat meat except fish, see I know that!”

“Anybody who Googles me could know that,” she answered coldly.  “Give me that fish.  Now what are you doing with that Australian asshole?”

Mike handed over the salmon cautiously, without getting too close.  “That’s my friend, Harrison.  He found me on my Earth in the multiverse, and brought me here to his home.  He’s not the one who killed me…killed your brother, I mean.  He’s good.  I promise.  I swear.”  The Brainiac raised his right hand in solemn honesty.  “He’s one of the good guys.  We’re fighting the same enemy as you.”

Dr. K growled and the two dogs followed in turn.  The chorus of growls was almost musical.

“We’ll see about that.  Just stay out of my way this weekend.  You mind your business, and I’ll mind mine.”

“OK, that’s fine…” said Brainiac.

“And keep that Australian out of my sight!” warned Dr. K as she stormed past the Brainiac on her way down the road.

“How did it go?” asked Moustachio.

“Oh, great!” lied Brainiac.  “We’ll be great neighbours.  Just…I think you should probably stay indoors for the rest of the weekend.”

“Oh?  Why?” queried Moustachio.

“Well,” gulped Brainiac, “She did mention that she didn’t want to see you around.”

“Ah,” answered Moustachio.  “Perfect.”

“Don’t worry, I have this well in hand,” lied Brainiac some more.  “Let’s both go inside and watch live Iron Maiden videos on Youtube, but on the big TV.  You’ll love it.  Come see.”

Harrison harrumphed, and went inside with his friend.  Ripper the squirrel remained outside, for it was an unfortunate house rule:  no squirrels inside.  Inside, Ripper hopped over to the laptop on the deck and monitored for danger.

Sitting atop his perch, Ripper sniffed the air.  “Squee squee!” he cried.

“What is it, friend?” said Harrison as he poked his head out the window.  “Something amiss?”

“Squeeeeee!” answered Ripper in squirrel-ese.

“Oh!  You smelled a skunk?  Fear not.  Brainiac said they are endemic to these woods, and are timid and harmless.  You stay out of their way and you’ll be fine.”  Ripper nodded in acknowledgement, and got back to monitoring.

Evening.

The air was still, but the sound of a booming bass clarinet echoed down at the lake.  The Brainiac was making his way back up the path.  The sun had set an hour ago, but at the beach he lingered.  He had been waiting for this day ever since he arrived in this universe.  He wanted it to be his new home, but it did not feel like home at the moment.  Though he recognized every inch of this place, he felt was a trespasser today.  The bass clarinet seemingly mocked his displacement; a thump of bass with his every footstep.  It was an unpleasant feeling.  It crawled over his skin like an insect.

Then he smelled it.  That sweet yet horrible smell of skunk.

“I think one has taken a nest nearby. Best tread carefully this weekend.”  The Brainiac stepped slowly and intently as he walked.  You didn’t want to scare a skunk at night.

Upon reaching the road, he paused to look over at Dr. K’s place.  There, she was hidden within “Kathronia”, her private rehearsal shed.  The lights streamed through the window, and Brainiac could see her practising intensely.  Two guard-Schnauzers stood at either side of the door.

Brainiac resumed walking, climbed the stairs and entered the brown cottage.  Moustachio and Jen were waiting for him in the kitchen.  They were working hard on building a Lego…something.

“Come and see what we made!” shouted Jen in excitement.  Harrison simply grinned in anticipation.

Mike leaned over on the kitchen table and looked to see what they had been working on.

“Is that…me?  A Minifigure me?  With…a drone?”

“It is, and yes, that’s correct,” answered Moustachio in return.  Now Jen was smiling.

“But I don’t own a drone,” said a confused Brainiac.

“That’s ‘Part 2’ of your surprise,” said Jen.  “Max the Axe is on his way tomorrow with a new toy for you.”

“For me?  A drone?” gasped Mike.

“You always said you wanted one,” said Moustachio.  “Both old-you and new-you.”

“That’s true, I have, but I never thought I’d own one!” responded Brainiac.

“Well, Max the Axe called here about an hour ago with a brand-new one in the box.  All he wants is to go for a swim in return,” informed Jen.

“Wow!  I can’t wait for tomorrow!” screamed Mike in excitement.

Saturday.

Max the Axe sat on the front deck with Mike, Moustachio, Jen and Ripper.  He cracked the top of a can of ice-cold beer and swigged it down.  Jen was deep into a Tim Horton’s large, while Mike and Harrison were sipping sweet tea, a beverage they acquired a taste for on their last mission.

“I thought you wanted to swim, Max?” asked Mike of his new guest.

“Gotta chill first!” answered Maxie.  “You got any tunes?”

“How about some Max the Axe?” answered Moustachio as he played “Gods on the Radio” from the laptop.  Max nodded in approval and raised his beer.

“You know, I’ll be able to make some cool videos for you Max, with this new drone.  Down by the River Grand, you playing a solo, me flying overhead…”  The Brainiac was half-way through his new drone manual.  It was charging up as the friends quaffed their beverages.

From next door, Mike saw Dr. K emerge from her cabin with seven or eight dogs.  She began walking them down the road.

“Shit!  Dr. K!  Harrison, get inside!” instructed Mike.  Harrison swiftly ducked indoors before Dr. K could see him.

Dr. K completely ignored them as she walked by.  She had earbuds on, and did not turn her head even a little.  The dogs, however, did.

“Hey doggies!” shouted Maxie from the porch.  “Polly want a cracker?”

The dogs went on their way, out of sight down the road.

Afternoon.

Max was towelling off down at the beach.  “That was a fantastic swim!” he proclaimed as he towelled off his excellent hair.  “I feel completely refreshed and ready for my next beer.”

“How long are you planning on staying, Maxie?” asked the Brainiac who assumed it was just for an afternoon.  Brainiac was flying his new drone up and down the beach.  It was like second nature to him, as if he’d been doing it his whole life.  The drone dipped, dived and dodged through the rocks on the lakeshore.

“How long?  Just a couple days,” answered Max as he towelled some more.  He shook his perfect hair like a dog.  “Need to cool down and chill out.”

“Super,” said Brainiac.  “Unfortunately there isn’t a spare bed, but you can pitch a tent on the vacant lot between me and Dr. K if you want.”

“Copy that,” said Max.  “I came prepared.  What’s for dinner?”

“I guess you didn’t come that prepared,” answered Brainiac.  “We’re having Australian cuisine this evening.  Vegemite on toast with kangaroo sausage.”

“That’s disgusting!” boomed a voice coming down the pathway.  It was Dr. K.

“Oh, hey Doc,” said Mike.  “You know Max the Axe.”  Max waved over.

“You’re actually going to eat kangaroo meat?  That’s disgusting.  Your friend is a savage,” spat Dr. K.

“You’re welcome for the salmon,” answered the Brainiac with bitterness.  “I’d offer to cook it for you, but I’m sure you don’t want your food anywhere near my friend the savage…who saved me, by the way.”

Dr. K ignored him and continued down the beach.

“Come on Maxie, let’s go,” said the Brainiac.  The two walked back up the pathway to the cottage.

Midnight.

Max the Axe tossed and turned in his tent.  The ground was hard beneath him, and his air mattress had a leak.

“Can’t…can’t sleep,” grunted an annoyed Max.  Next door, the dogs woke up.  Then the howling began.  Dr. K’s dogs, awakened by Max, broke into song. They howled like wolves in the night.  “Well now I really won’t be able to sleep,” complained Max as he got up.  “Better go pee.”

Max stumbled out of his tent, and made his way across the road.  He gazed at the stars as he peed.  He sighed in tired relief as the remnants of his beer spilled into the dirt.

“Kangaroo sausage is kinda gamey,” said Max to nobody as he zipped up his pants.  It was then that he smelled it.

“Smells like weed,” said Max as he sniffed.  He heard something moving in the darkness.  “Here, kitty kitty,” said Max to the shrubbery before him.  The dogs sang their song behind him.  The shape in the shrubs made a noise as it moved beneath his feet.

“Heeeeere kitty!” said Max excitedly as he saw a little black face poke out from the shrubs.  The dogs increased their sing-song howling, as if they were warning of imminent danger.  Maxie stepped further into the bushes.  “Here kitty!  Want a piece of kangaroo sausage?”   The animal backed off immediately, and raised its tail.  A black tail with a prominent white stripe running down.  The animal turned and faced its tail towards Max.

“You’re a funny looking cat,” pondered Max as the dogs hit their crescendo.    Then, a noxious spray hit him right in the face.

“SKUNK!  SKUUUUNK!” screamed Max in horror as he fell on his back.  The skunk scurried away in the night, just as scared as Max was.

Suddenly a pack of dogs tore loose from the front door of Dr. K’s cottage.  They ran towards Max, gripped him by the T-shirt, and pulled with all their might.  With their combined strength, they managed to drag Max out of the stinky bushes.  Then, they ran back to the cottage just as fast as they came.  Dr. K emerged, in a really bad mood.

“Thanks for waking up my dogs, Max,” she said sarcastically.  “Oh dear god, that stink!  Did you get sprayed by a skunk?”  She plugged her nose.

“I thought it a was a bush cat!” answered Max.

Dr. K approached with a spray bottle in hand.  Her nose was plugged.

“Looks like your bush was a patch of poison ivy.  You have a fun day ahead of you tomorrow.  Oh, that stink!”

Plugging her nose, she handed Max the spray bottle.  “Take this.  I have lots of experience with dogs getting sprayed by skunks.  Use this, but use the whole bottle.  And keep it down out here!  It’s midnight!  Some of us are trying to sleep!  I have a big day tomorrow and I don’t need you idiots messing it up!”

“I’m just one idiot,” protested Max as he sprayed himself all over with the chemical in the bottle.  “The other idiots are sleeping.”

“No we’re not,” called out Mike from a window.  “Nobody’s sleeping now!”

“What are ya doing tomorrow?” asked Max.

“I have a video shoot for my new album here, and you all better stay out of my way!”  Dr. K stormed back across the road and slammed the door.

Sunday.

It was a quiet morning.  Dr. K was preparing for her video shoot while her dogs stood by loyally.  Everyone else was laying low.  The Brainiac sipped his coffee on the front porch.  He stared intently at the water, doing his best not to look at or attract the attention of Dr. K.  She was in a bad enough mood already, after the shenanigans of Max the Axe the night before.  As for the Axe Man, he slept loudly in his tent between the two properties.

Harrison poked his head out the window.  “Is it safe for me to come out?” he asked.

“Should be OK for a few minutes,” answered the Brainiac.  “What’s up?”

“I’ll show you,” answered Moustachio.  A moment later and he was on the porch with tablet in hand.

“Scanners are picking up a threat,” informed Moustachio.  “According to this map, it is travelling on land, down highway 26.  Roughly one and a half hours to arrival.”

Mike pulled on the little tuft of facial hair under his lip.  He thought a moment.  “Question one:  How do we know it is a threat?”

Moustachio flipped the screen to another page. He pointed.  “See here.  Audio scans.  There is absolutely no bass in a bubble around this vehicle.  Judging by its trajectory and speed of 105 kilometers per hour, we know it’s a land vehicle like a car or truck.  But it is the bass bubble that set off the alert.  Whatever it is, it absorbs bass.”

Mike thought some more.  “Two of us play bass instruments.  It could be coming for me…or it could be coming for her.”  He paused a moment.  “Question two:  Do we intercept, or wait?”

Moustachio smiled.  “Intercept.  Question three:  Which vehicle do we take?  We have our newly acquired vintage white Citroën 11 Légère Cabriolet, imported here from Europe and suped up by the Durling Foundation, and we have the Stealth Jet hidden away from prying eyes.”  The pair had taken the liberty of re-locating both vehicles nearby for quick deployment.

“The Cabriolet!” said Mike as he clapped his hands together in delight.  “You drive.”

“Roger Roger,” said Harrison.

“I’ll bring my bass, it might come in handy, or it might be useless.  We’ll see.  Allons-y!” commanded Mike.

 

Noon.

“There it is!” shouted Harrison as the wind whipped his hair in the open-topped car.  Mike squinted his eyes and confirmed on the scanner.

“A huge bubble of absolutely no bass coming from that thing.  20 meters wide, maybe more.  Good thing Durling equipped this Cabriolet with a subwoofer and a guitar input.  I’m plugging in.  Stop the car!”

Harrison pulled the vintage classic open-top car over and parked.  Mike grabbed his acoustic bass from the back and plugged into the dash.  He strummed.  A throb of heavy bass chords blasted from the car sound system.  Harrison plugged his ears, gave the thumbs up, and jumped out of the car.  “Here!” he said to the Brainiac.  “Ear protection from this point forward!”  He handed his friend a set of high-tech noise cancelling earplugs.

The vehicle approaching them was now clear.  Silver and sleek, it looked like something from a science fiction movie.  Or outer space… thought Moustachio to himself.  “Contact in 10 seconds!” he shouted.  Mike responded with a thumbs up.  He placed goggles over his eyes.  This could kick up some dust.

“Six seconds!” alerted Moustachio.  Mike prepared to pick.

“Two…one…NOW!”  Mike strummed.

And nothing happened.

The silver car streaked past unhindered.  Mike and Harrison’s ears poppped as the bubble of no-bass passed with the car.  They looked at each other.

“Back in the car!”  They jumped aboard and began pursuing the silver speedster.  Harrison gunned it, and the car leaped back onto the asphalt, in a spill of gravel and dust.  “Allons-y!”

Harrison sweat furiously as he fought to overtake the silver vehicle.  “Don’t let him out of our sights,” ordered Harrison.  Mike fired up the big screen and scanned.  His brow furrowed.  “Harrison…I think we’re in pursuit of a vehicle…that may be in pursuit of another vehicle!  He seems to have caught up to, and is directly behind, a small blue car with a single passenger.  Woah!  Cancel that.  He just ran the blue car off the road!”  A cloud of dust exploded on the road ahead.  “There!  That’s it!  Pull over!”

“If I pull over, I’ll lose the silver car!” warned Moustachio.

“We have to help this guy if we can,” reasoned Mike.  Harrison nodded and pulled over directly behind a blue Honda in a ditch.  The driver was getting out at that moment.

“What was that!?” asked the frantic driver who was clearly in the midst of a panic.  “That guy ran me right off the road!”

“We’ve been following him and we have a few questions!” said Harrison.  “Who are you exactly?”

The man brushed dust off his pants, though the road was still clouded with the stuff.  “My name is Señor Spielbergo, I’m a music video director.  I was on my way to film Dr. Kathryn’s new video for her album, but I’ll never make it now!  Look, four flat tires!”

Harrison and Mike looked down and indeed, the man had four flat tires.  He was not going anywhere.

“We have to leave pronto, we’ll call you a tow truck, sorry but we gotta go!  C’mon Moustachio!”  Mike signalled his friend to get in and continue pursuit.

“But wait!!  Who are you guys?” asked the videographer.

“We’re the Northern Lights!” shouted Harrison as his car skidded away.  “And we have an enemy to pursue!”

Afternoon.

Dr. K was absolutely seething.  Not only was Max the Axe’s tent pitched in the exact spot she planned on filming her video, but her videographer Señor Spielbergo was late.

“I’ll film your video for you,” offered Max.  “I have a super-8 camera in the tent.”

“About that…” growled Dr. K.  “Move the tent, now!  That’s where I’m playing my big solo!  Right where you’re camping!”

“Well you can’t play your big solo without a camera,” reasoned Max.

“MOVE!” she bellowed, and then raised her bass clarinet to her lip.  With a mighty breath, she exhaled and blasted Max five feet backwards.

“Alright, alright, I’ll move, jeez I was just tryin’ to help ya.  I’m kind of a big deal you know.”

Dr. K turned her back and stormed off.  Today was already a total disaster.  If it wasn’t for the skunk stench lingering in the air, thanks to Max the Axe, it was definitely the missing videographer.

“At least that lousy Australian has stayed out of my way,” she mumbled.

It was then that she spotted the boomerang soaring over her head.

“Dr. K!  DUCK!” yelled a deep voice with an Australian accent.

Dr. K hit the dirt and looked up.  Three figures were running in her direction.  The lead figure was one she didn’t recognize — a cyborg of some kind!  Its robotic limbs propelled it at great speed in her direction.  Its grey fleshy face stared as it ran.  Behind it in close pursuit were the Australian named Moustachio, and her brother…or Brainiac II, or whatever he was calling himself.

Harrison caught the boomerang and hurled it again.  This time it struck true and hit the cyborg in the back of the knee.  There it lodged itself, and the half-man half-machine hit the ground with a thud.  But the bass-heavy thud was immediately absorbed back into the circuitry of the cyborg.

No bass!  Dr. K realized what this being was.  An Anti-Bass!  And extremely powerful alien android from the Planet Of No Bass, somewhere in Justice For All system.

“It’s here for me!” she exclaimed.  She raised her bass clarinet and blasted as hard as she could.  The bass dissipated in a wide bubble around the cyborg, but it was still on the ground, struggling with the metallic boomerang lodged into its leg.  Then, it began clawing its way through the dirt, carving a trail in the earth.

Brainiac II, with his acoustic bass strapped to his back, raced to help his sister.  Moustachio grabbed the half-electronic being by its other leg and tried to pull it backwards.

“Maybe if we both played the same note, we could overload that thing!” he suggested.  Dr. K shook her head no emphatically.

“It’s still not enough power!  We’d need three bass instruments minimum, and yours isn’t even amplified!”

“Wait!  Look” pointed the Brainiac towards the cyborg.  It’s not crawling towards you…it’s crawling towards the tent!  It’s not after you…it never was!  And it’s definitely not after me.”

“Who else could it be after?” exclaimed Dr. K.  “I’m the bass clarinettist extraordinaire!  Besides, who else here plays bass?”

“I do!” shouted Max the Axe from his tent.  He was pulling a large Peavy bass amp behind him.  “And I have the amplification, too!  Come on Mike, you knew I played bass!”

“I did know that!” snapped Brainiac.  “Plug me in!  All three of us have to play the same notes, simultaneously, to beat that thing!  It was after Max the Axe all along, I guess?”

“I told you I’m a big deal.  Now hold on, I have to tune up you know.  I’m a professional.”  Max fidgeted with the tuning pegs on a nice shiny blue bass guitar.

“Hurry up Max!” cried Harrison.  I’m losing my grip on this thing!”

At that moment, Max the Axe tuned his bass with exact precision.  He looked the Brainiac in the eye.  The Brainiac nodded in return and raised his bass, now plugged into the Peavy.  Max turned his head and looked at Dr. K, who joined them in a line with her bass clarinet.  She raised it to her lips and nodded.  Then, they played.

The sound of the three bass instruments emanated with power, but were swiftly absorbed by the Anti-Bass bubble.  The cyborg trembled and moaned something in a distorted digital voice.  Harrison managed to pull it back three feet.

“That did something!” shouted the Australian.  “Again!  With feeling!”

The three musicians stood and blasted another note.  This time, the circuitry on the cyborg’s head began to sputter and spark, as it cried in digital pain.

“One more!” commanded Harrison.

Together, they played the same note, as low as they could go, one more time.  This time, the bass did not disappear in a bubble.  With a loud tremor, the bubble imploded.  The cyborg was crushed by the force, and fell to pieces.  Harrison’s metal boomerang fell loose, undamaged.  Harrison stood and collected his weapon.

“We did it!” he announced.  “This cyborg is no more.”

The four high-fived in celebration.

“So, what happened to your cool car?” asked Dr. K of Moustachio and Brainiac.  “You came back here on foot.”

“Three cars got wrecked in this adventure, though we were only responsible for two of them,” answered Harrison vaguely.

“The third vehicle belonged to your videographer, a Señor Spielbergo?  He said he was on his way to film your new video today.  I regret to inform you that he is now riding home in a tow truck,” informed the Brainiac.

“Well there goes my video!” stomped Dr. K in frustration.

“Why?” asked Max the Axe.  “Don’t we have a brand new drone here to film you with?”

Everyone stopped and stared in silence at Max.

“Holy shit!  This man’s a genius!” shouted the Brainiac.

Early evening.

A roaring fire blazed in the background as Dr. K played her bass clarinet solo for the drone overhead.  Jen and Ripper the squirrel clapped on in excitement from the sidelines as they watched.  Mike was fully absorbed in his drone controls, as he swooped overhead.  Then he circled around Dr. K, who rotated in synch with the drone.  As a favour, Max the Axe agreed to play guitar in the background.  He looked cool as his hair was swept by the wind.  The drone came down between the two and panned to the lake ahead.

This was going to be an awesome video.

Midnight.

A temporary peace was at hand.  Around the fire sat Dr. K and nine dogs, Jen and Ripper the squirrel, with Max the Axe, the Brainiac and Moustachio.  It was a tense truce.  Dr. K didn’t want to be seated anywhere near the Australian, or the Brainiac that matter.  Max the Axe had beer, at least.  Deep in thought, she rewound the events of the last 24 hours.  That Anti-Bass cyborg wasn’t here for her.  That was a surprise to her.  She’d been making waves through the galaxy as a mercenary for hire with a dog army, and she wouldn’t be surprised if somebody was looking for revenge.

She broke the silence.  “So…if that cyborg wasn’t after me, why did it take out my videographer and try to ruin my video?” she asked.

Moustachio rose to answer.  “Your videographer was just an unfortunate bystander.  We had assumed the Anti-Bass was tailing him for many miles, but they just happened to be going to the same place.  The cyborg was trying to outrace use, and Speilbergo didn’t get out of his way in time.”

Then Max the Axe suddenly awakened from his near slumber.  “Wait a minute wait a minute.  There are robots after me?  Why?  What did I do?”

The Braniac pondered this question.  “It might not be something you did, but something you have.  Do you have anything else of value in that tent of yours?”

“Yah,” answered Max.  “I have three working tape decks, a Casio keyboard and a whole bunch of Starlog magazines from 1985-1986.”

“Bingo,” snapped Harrison with his fingers.

“Don’t you mean dingo?” asked a confused Max.

“No, Bingo, like you Canadians say.  It’s the Starlog magazines.  I have hunch.  Mike, get me a light.  Max, bring me the magazines.”

With Mike shining a light down, Harrison scanned through them issue by issue, until he reached the one he was looking for.  July, 1986.  Transformers: The Movie special issue.  He opened it. Getting more excited page by page, Harrison knew he was on the right track.  Then, he stopped.  He gasped.

“There.  There!” he pointed to a page.  It was a fold-out.

“Complete schematics of Unicron the Planet Eater?” asked the Brainiac.

“Precisely,” answered Moustachio.  “This is invaluable to us, and anybody trying to stop us.  Get it scanned immediately.  This could be everything.  This could win the war.”

“War? What war?” asked Dr. K as Max stared agape.

Harrison grinned.

“Oh, we have a lot to catch you up on.”

To be continued…

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

Takeover of Rock Heaven (Part 2) – A Northern Lights Multiverse Story (By 80sMetalMan)

Takeover of Rock Heaven

Part 2: The Execution

A Northern Lights Multiverse Story

By 80sMetalMan

See also:

 

“The superheroes have taken the bait, we move now!” Satan commanded his legions.

Satan didn’t have a large force for his planned attack, he didn’t need it. Thanks to his mole, he would have complete surprise. Standing by the secret door, he proudly watched as Hell’s minions marched up and took their postions. When they were all up, Satan knocked on what appeared to be the wall. Suddenly, a door magically appeared and began to open.

“Follow me!” Satan rushed through the open door with his forces filing in behind him. Once inside, his minions began to fill the large reception room and began rounding up citizens of Rock Heaven who were unfortunate to be there at the time, with magic lassos. Keith Emerson and Greg Lake were two of the unfortunates.

“Quickly, check all passages and rooms,” Satan ordered. “Find Elvis, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper. Those last three were the original citizens of this place. Make sure you also get Ronnie James Dio and Lemmy. Oh, just get everyone!”

The minions obeyed, they rushed through the corridors and rooms of Rock Heaven, capturing deceased rock stars with their magic lassos and freeing the disciples of Mr. Suplee from their cells. Elvis was soon captured as was Bon Scott soon after. One of Satan’s lieutenants had to tell his troops to control their lusts at the capture of female rock stars. Maybe Wendy O. Williams kicking a few of them in the nuts might have had something to do with it. Still, the lieutenant promised, “There will be plenty of time for that when we get them to Hell.”

All of the captured rock stars were brought to the main reception room where Satan’s secretary ticked them off on his list. It was when they saw the singer, standing by the devil, they knew they had been betrayed.

“Johnny Cash, how could you do this to us? I thought we were friends,” Elvis tearfully inquired.

“It’s nothing personal,” Johnny reassured his old friend. “Back in 1955, I made a deal with the devil, my soul for stardom.”

“You could have made it on your own, you had the talent,” Elvis pointed out.

“Yeah, but this way was easier.”

Meanwhile, Satan was distracted by another of his lieutenants who reported, “We got most of them sir, we’re just mopping up.”

“That’s not enough!” Satan viciously growled. “There are still some key people missing. I don’t see Buddy Holly, Ronnie James Dio or Lemmy.”

“We’ll get them, sir.”

It took three minions and two lassos to subdue Lemmy. Even then, he fought back every step of the way screaming, “I’m gonna kill you mother fuckers!”

The time it took to capture Lemmy, gave Ronnie James Dio and Buddy Holly time to organize a delay action. Ronnie grabbed a mic stand and when the minions approached, the stand let out a blast which sent two minions flying backwards, hitting a wall and knocking them out cold. He blasted four more before numbers took its toll. Ronnie was soon surrounded and captured.

Ronnie’s actions gave Buddy Holly and those who were still free a chance to make a final stand or escape. Producing three guitars, he handed one to Jeff Beck and another to Jimi Hendrix. “Each note sends a blast to its intended target. We’ll make a stand at this t-junction in the corridor and hold as long as we can.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Satan’s hordes came charging down the corridor towards the three guitarists. Buddy fired first, his blast sent three of them flying backwards. Jimi and Jeff followed suit, their blasts sending more minions flying backwards and clogging the corridor. Jimi even ricocheted a blast off the wall, sending five more into the opposite one.

Still, the enemy kept pouring in.

“Buddy, you need to go, we’ll hold as long as we can,” Jeff Beck stated.

After one more successful blast from his guitar, Buddy got up, “You’re right.” He beckoned up one of the other corridors and led twelve uncaptured rock stars away. They followed Buddy down one corridor and then down a less familiar one. Suddenly, Buddy stopped and struck a note on his guitar. To everyone’s awe, a door magically appeared and then opened.

“We figured something like this might happen so we were prepared,” Buddy explained. “No go!”

He watched as the first ten stepped through the door but he held up the last two. “I’m putting the both of you in charge. The door is a portal which will take you to the Metalman. You must make sure everyone gets to him, He’s the only one who can help us, now go.”

“What about you?” one of them asked.

“If I go, they will know something’s up and they will definitely try to search for me and that will stop any plan to take back Rock Heaven,” Buddy explained.

Frank Zappa and Neil Peart nodded their understanding and stepped through the door. Once they were gone, the door slammed shut and just as magically, disappeared. It was like no door had ever been there. Buddy rushed back to where Jimi and Jeff had made their stand but not surprised to see they had been overrun. It didn’t matter, they had done their job, so, the first minions he saw, Buddy raised his hands and surrendered.

All of the captured citizens of Rock Heaven sat in the large reception room awaiting their fate. Mixed feelings permeated the room, some were pessimistically gloomy while others like Lemmy, who whenever a minion came by, called them a “fucking wanker” remained defiant. To add further insult, Dave Holland walked among the heavy metal contingent taunting them, especially Ronnie James Dio. “You wouldn’t let me in here so now you’re going to pay.” Elvis, on the other hand, wallowed in self pity, not being able to grasp how his good friend, Johnny Cash, could betray him.

“Twelve are still unaccounted for,” Satan’s secretary informed his boss.

Turning to one of his lieutenants,, he inquired, “Have you looked everywhere?”

“Yes, sir, it seems like they just disappeared.” Then pointing at Buddy Holly, the lieutenant pointed out, “Maybe he can help.”

Buddy Holly was brought before the Prince of Evil. “Do you know where the others are hiding? Telling me now might make things easier for you when you get to Hell.”

“Not, hiding, escaped. They went through a portal even you can’t open.”

Satan stomped about angrily and bellowed, “Then it will be worse for you, Holly! I shoved pineapples up Hitler and Saddam’s asses but I’m gonna shove watermelons up yours!” Then turning to his secretary, asked, “Who’s missing?”

“Neil Peart, Christime McVie, Christian Fagg, Warrell Dane, Paul Kantner, Sandy Pearman, Muddy Waters, Glenn Frey, Alec John Such, Keth Moon, Jill Janus and Frank Zappa.”

“Drat! I wanted Zappa,” Satan barked angrily. “I remember his portrayal of me in that song, ‘Titties and Beer,’ I was going to make him hold his pickle for enternity.”

Intermission.

The Metalman looked at his cherished copy of Nazereth’s “Hair of the Dog” album. He was ever so grateful the superheroes were able to get it back for him and put Suplee in Hell where he belonged. When they parted company, the Metalman expressed his hearty thanks and wished the superheroes well in their retirement.

A sudden but familiar noise briefly startled him. Someone from Rock Heaven was paying him a visit. At first, he wondered if it was Cliff Burton as it was he who visted the most, making sure the Metalman got his rock historical facts correct. He watched, wondering who it might be and he wasn’t surprised to see Jill Janus as she had vistied before. However, he was rather surprised to see Christine McVie. More rock stars materialized in his living room, some he knew of, others he didn’t. When the sixth person, a man wearing a baseball cap, who the Metalman recognised as producer, Sandy Pearlman materialized, he wondered just how many were coming. He felt particuarly honoured when Keith Moon materialized and then Neil Peart, remembering he brought Neil to the superheroes’ Christmas party. But it was the twelfth and final person to arrive which made his jaw hit the floor. He never thought he’d get a visit from Frank Zappa.

“Why are you all here? What happened?” the Metalman asked, so nervous that his two questions nearly merged as one.

Appointed spokesperson, Frank Zappa, grimly replied, “Satan has taken over Rock Heaven. The rock stars there have been rounded up and are on their way to Hell, we twelve were the only ones to escape.”

“How did it happen?”

“It was an inside job, Satan had a mole in Rock Heaven, Johnny Cash, whom no one would have suspected. Buddy Holly opened up the portal to take us here. He said you would be able to help us.”

“Can you?” Neil Peart pleaded. “I understand the superheroes have retired.”

“They have retired, although they did come briefly out of retirement to get back my “Hair of the Dog” album which Suplee stole. He must have escaped from Rock Heaven.”

“He did,” Frank explained. “He must have had some help, probably from Cash.”

“What shall we do?” Christine McVie wondered out loud.

“There is a new group of superheroes,” the Metalman explained. “They’re called the Northern Lights and we need to contact them immediately.

To be continued…

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 

THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN:  PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA

THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS:  PHASE THREE – THE UNICRON SAGA

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM