Adventures of the Northern Lights

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

The Creatures of the Night: The Adventures of the Northern Lights

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

Chapter One:  The Creatures of the Night

Starring: 

  • Mike the Brainiac
  • Harrison El Moustachio
  • Mr. Durling
  • The Snowman
  • Max the Axe
  • Ripper the Squirrel

Kincardine, Ontario.  Summer.

Moustachio was hard at work.  He had an important job before him.  Tim Durling, CEO of the Durling Foundation, had tasked him with an almost impossible quest:  finding a copy of Creatures of the Night on 8-track tape.  Harrison remembered the conversation well.

“What’s weird is, I’ve only ever seen one variant of it, the US Mercury retail.  There have to be others,” said Mr. Durling.

“You want me to hunt for a Kiss 8-track tape?  Don’t we have any villains to quash?  Perhaps a dark artefact of evil to prevent from falling into the wrong hands?”

“Nope,” answered Durling.  “It’s been pretty quiet out there.  Even your mad clone Shinzon, who we now know survived the final battle with Tee Bone Man, seems to be lost in the multiverse with no way to get to us.  So, this is my top priority at the moment.  I have the Jexciter and the Night Ranger searching Eastern Canada, to no avail.”

“If I find one,” asked Moustachio, “What should I pay for it?”

“In order to know that, I would have to actually see one for sale, which I have not,” answered Durling.

“Ah, an easy task then,” answered Moustachio.  “I’ll get the Brainiac on it, and we’ll begin our search.  I take it we have your stealth jet at our disposal?”

“It is parked at the Kincardine airport right now.  Off you go!” ordered Durling.

That was the conversation.  The only issue now was waking a snoring Brainiac.  Moustachio could hear him, over the crashing waves, all the way down at the beach.

“Always sleeping, that one,” complained Harrison as he put on some shoes and started walking.  “I wonder if the original Brainiac snored this loud?”

From a window, Jennifer (aka Mrs. Brainiac) answered.  “The original Michael was even worse!” she laughed.  Harrison was stone-faced.  He was not amused by the constant snoring, day or night.  It had to stop or he’d never get any sleep himself.  This new Brainiac, whom he rescued from a universe where he was all alone, was almost identical in every way to the original, killed by the evil Shinzon long ago.  He looked the same.  He talked the same.  He was a perfect copy in almost every quality, but two.  One, he was alive.  Two, apparently he didn’t snore as much.  They informally called him “Brainiac II” but for all intents and purposes, he was the Brainiac.  He fit into our universe as if the original never died.  As if he only went away for a little while.

“Hey Harrison,” said Jen.  “Come back here a minute.”

Dutifully, Harrison returned to the front porch.  “Yes ma’am?” he bowed.  From a tree high above, Ripper the Squirrel descended, and perched upon his shoulder.  “Squee squee?” asked Ripper as he joined his old friend.

“Keep an eye on Mike for me,” she cautioned.  “It was fun for me to fly around in space last year, but I’d rather keep him around this time.  Don’t let anything happen to him,” she instructed.  Ripper nodded in understanding.  He was learning English at a rapid rate, though none of the humans had really mastered squirellese yet.

Harrison saluted in return.  Then, Ripper also saluted upon his shoulder.  “Fear not, this is an easy mission.  A fun mission.  No harm will come to the Brainiac this time, I promise.  Meanwhile, I’ll leave Ripper here to mind the camp with you.”  Ripper squee’d in delight, for he knew that Jen stuffed him full of peanuts if he was good.  Moustachio turned and left the pair to conspire.  He made his way down to the beach.  It was a beautiful day, with a light breeze and small waves crashing against the stones.

“Mike!” shouted Moustachio as he approached the beach.  “Time to wake up!  We have a mission.”  He saw a still lump of a human being on the bench ahead, unmoving except the heaving of his body as he snored.  Moustachio covered his ears and hovered over the Brainiac.  He was unshaven and sunburned.

“Mike!” shouted Harrison from two feet away.  The Brainiac did not stir.  Moustachio poked his exposed belly with a stick, and suddenly he started awake!

“WOAH!” shouted Brainiac in sudden shock.  “Oh…Harrison!  What’s up matey?”  He attempted to do an Australian accent.  “Here to put another shrimp on the barbie?”

“I told you to stop talking like that,” complained Harrison.  “Now come back up to the camp.  We have a mission.  From Mr. Durling.  You’ll like this one.”

“And I told you, stop calling it camp!  Our headquarters is a cottage, not a camp.  We are not Northern Ontario savages.  We have our own dialect!”

“Noted,” responded Moustachio.  “Now get your Crocs on and get back to the cottage.  My understanding is the stealth jet is fueled and waiting for us at the airport.”

“Aye-aye, captain!” saluted the Brainiac as he leaped to his feet.  “What’s the mission?”

With a sly wink, Moustachio told him.  “You and I are going to hunt for an 8-track copy of Creatures of the Night.”

The Brainiac’s jaw dropped.  “No way…that thing is pure legend.  I’ve never seen a copy, only pictures.  But I have a pretty good idea where to start.”

“Where’s that?” asked the Moustache Man inquisitively.

Mike winked.  “To the jet!  We have to head back to Kitchener, and Max the Axe’s garage sale.  Allons-y!”

The black jet cut silently through the clouds.  Stealthy as a bat at night, the jet attracted no eyes as Moustachio and the Brainiac soared.  The sky was a bright, vivid blue, dotted by puffs of white clouds and a gleaming yellow sun.  In the pilot’s seat was the Brainiac, while Moustachio sat behind, monitoring the radar and communications.

“How about a little music?” asked the Brainiac of his friend.

“‘Flight of Icarus’ seems appropriate, without the crashing of course!” answered the moustached Australian.

“Cheerio!” exclaimed the Brainiac.  The opening chords crunched in the earphones.

“Flyyyy…on your way!  Like an eagle…fly as high, as the sun!” sang Mike as he pulled back on the controls, causing the jet to climb sunward.  He did a fancy maneuver, testing the responses of this new stealth jet.

“Wait a minute…” gasped Moustachio.  “Mike, we are not alone here!  I have four bogies on an intercept vector!”

“Time to dive!” replied Mike, as the jet lurched groundward.  “What do you see?”

“They’re small…four tiny blips on our radar.  Too small to be manned.  Must be UAV’s, unmanned aerial vehicles!  They’re diving too!”

Mike pondered this information as he attempted evasive moves.  The jet suddenly shot off to the west, towards the coast of Lake Huron.  “I got this…besides, I know a few maneuvers, we’ll lose ’em,” he said calmly.

“We’re not losing them!” answered Moustachio.

“What the?!” exclaimed Mike as one of them fired a shot!

“This tape must be hotter than I thought,” he Mike with concern.  “Try to hold them off, angle the deflector shield while I make the calculations to hit the afterburners!”

“Shields up, captain!” answered Harrison in the back.  “Get us out of here!”

Mike hit the afterburners, and suddenly the jet leaped skyward.  He and Harrison were pressed back into their seats as the jet continued to climb.   “Flying is for droids…” mumbled Mike.

Harrison fought the G-forces as he struggled to see the radar screen.  When his vision returned, the radar screen bore good news. “That did it!  We are clear!  Kill the afterburners!”  Mike hit the the controls, and the jet began to level out.

“Whew…that was close!” said Mike as he wiped the sweat from his brow.  “But who could be after us?  Who is trying to stop us for getting that tape?  And why?”

Harrison thought a minute, but did have one suspicion that he wasn’t yet ready to share.  “I have a feeling we will find out,” he said.  “But we must be on the right track if they are trying to stop us.”  Mike grimly agreed with his Australian co-pilot.

“Then let’s continue with our mission, with our guard up.  Once we land, I suggest we do not leave this jet unarmed,” he warned.  The two were uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the trip.

“Woah!” blurted out a bleary-eyed Max the Axe.  “A jet!”

Indeed, the black stealth jet was making a vertical landing right in front of Max the Axe’s garage sale.  A big sign saying “Trillion Dollar Treats” hung overhead.  Max shielded his eyes from the blast as the jet softly landed.  He watched as two figures exited the cockpit.

“Mike!  Harrison!  Good to see you guys!  What are ya lookin’ for?  I just got in a brand new Sony CD player that can hold 100 CDs at a time.”

“No thanks Maxie,” answered Mike, shaking his hand.  “We’re after something else.  We’re on a quest.”

Max shook Harrison’s hand.  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

“We don’t know where we’re going, we just know where we’ve been,” answered Harrison cryptically.

“Searching in the darkness, running from the day?” asked Max.

“Exactly,” answered Harrison, pointing at Mike.  “This one seemed to be averse to daylight, he’s always napping!”  The three laughed.

“What we are hunting for,” said Mike, deflecting the jokes, “is a very rare copy of Creatures of the Night on 8 track tape.  The Kiss album.”

“I had one here last week,” answered Max nonchalantly.  He started to dig through his piles of tapes.  “It must be around here somewhere.”  He dug more frantically, tossing audio equipment here and there, trying to get to the bottom of a pile.

“Well, Max?” asked Harrison.  Max ignored him and mumbled something about how he knew exactly where it was.

Mike leaned over to whisper to Harrison.  “I have a feeling this is a dead end after all.”  Harrison nodded in sullen agreement.

Finally, Max emerged from a pile of broken speakers, empty handed.

“It’s been stolen!” said Max.  “I know exactly where I put it, and it’s gone.  I’ve been robbed!”

Mike and Harrison looked at each other knowingly.  The thief had to be the same person who sent those UAV’s after them.  It could not be a coincidence.

“Max, you won’t believe this, but…” said Mike before he was cut off by the sound of a large blast.

“Take cover!” cried Moustachio as he wielded his boomerang.  “We’re under attack!  Again!”

From around the corner came four…snowmen?  Each one carried a blaster and they were approaching very slowly.  After all, Snowmen don’t have legs.

“Oh, man…” said Mike, ducking with his head in his hands.  He brandished a new, red lightsaber T-guard and ignited it.  It crackled with wild, uncontrolled energy.  “There’s only one man dumb enough to send a snowman army after us in the middle of summer.”

Harrison nodded.  “I think I know who.  Come on, this shouldn’t be too hard.”

As they approached closer, Moustachio and the Brainiac could see there were actually three snowmen, and one snowwoman.

“She’s a killer!  A stone-cold killer!” exclaimed one snowman, as the snowwoman aimed her blaster at Moustachio.  He threw his boomerang, deflecting the shot.  It returned to his waiting hand, and he launched it again.  This time it claimed one of the snowpeople’s heads.

“Danger! Danger!” cried the snowwoman, as Mike bisected it.

“Of all the tapes we needed, we had to seek the one that set the Snowman off!” shouted Mike.

“Well too late…we can’t stop this thing we started,” answered Harrison.

“Just don’t get reckless!” instructed Mike.  He leaped into the air, did a somersault, and landed right between the last two snowmen.  They took aim at him.  Leaping once again, Mike was out of the way when the two snowmen took each other out with their own shots.

With the sound of a flash, Mike turned off his lightsaber.  Harrison holstered his boomerang.  Max had somehow fallen on the ground after all the excitement.  The pair went over to pick him up.

“Easy Max,” said Moustachio.  “You’ve had a busy day.”

“That was crazy,” answered Max as he lurched to his feet.  “I’ve never heard of living snowmen before,” he said as he wiped dirt from his jeans.

“We have,” said Harrison.  “And I know where we must go next.  But we will need help.”

“Here…take this,” said Max, handing him a large box.  “This has been in storage since 1984.  You’ll have to break the latch off the box to open it.  But don’t open it until it’s time.”

“What’s in it and how will we know when it’s time?” asked Mike.

“Trust me,” answered Max.  “I’m kind of a big deal.  Did you guys need some smoke detectors?  I have six over here, still sealed in package.  A great deal.  I’ll give you all six for $20.”

“No thanks Maxie,” answered Brainiac.  “But keep your radio on, just in case we need you.  We know who stole your tape, and we’re going to steal it back.  Mr. Durling needs it, and he will assure that you are adequately compensated.”

“Ask that Durling guy if he needs any Marillion,” answered Max.

“He doesn’t!” replied Mike and Harrison in unison.

The stealth jet was now in American airspace, heading for its ultimate destination:  North Carolina.  The Snowman’s compound.  The Snowman was an eccentric collector, and member of the Northern Lights, whose Kiss collection boasted a copy of the Super Duper Vault, so large he had to build another house to store it.  He was known for his rather useless army of snowmen.  And now, our two heroes were on their way to a confrontation that neither of them wanted to have.

“I don’t understand something,” said Harrison from the back seat.  “The Snowman is one of us, he is a chartered member of the Northern Lights.  Why would he be working against us?”

“The answer, my dear Australian friend, is simple,” answered Mike in the pilot’s seat.  “With Kiss collectors it’s every man and snowman for himself!  Creatures of the Night is a holy grail tape, so rare that even Mr. Durling has never seen a copy in the flesh.  Snowman is one of the world’s foremost Kiss collectors.  It’s almost expected that he would crank up his war machine to steal that tape from Max.  He will stop at nothing to have a complete collection.”

“Makes sense I suppose, but the idea of going to war against our friend makes me mildly uncomfortable,” said Moustachio.

“I agree with you there,” lamented Mike.  “I think we can do this without anyone getting hurt.  We just need to steal that tape back.  It rightfully belongs to Max the Axe, and Mr. Durling will pay Max whatever it costs to get the tape, but one thing for sure is that it doesn’t belong to Snowman.  He stole it, plain and simple.  He can’t keep it, and we’re going to make sure of that.”  Some sweat broke on his brow, and he felt tense in his stomach.  “I just hope it doesn’t come to violence.”

Moustachio glanced at his radar and saw that they were close.  No enemy bogies were approaching.  “All clear on the radar,” he said.

Mike had a chill up his spine as he circled a clearing near the Snowman’s two houses, perfect for a landing.  What was that chill?  The air on his arms was standing up.

“Harrison…I feel cold…did something bad happen in this place?” asked Mike with foreboding.

Moustachio had kept this information to himself, but it was finally time to tell the Brainiac what happened.

“Yes.  I had hoped you would not have to know this, but according to Tee Bone Man and Superdekes, this is where you died.  Rather, where Brainiac I died, in our universe.  And he was killed by my own clone, Shinzon.  But I assure you, nothing like that will happen this time,” comforted Moustachio.

“So this is where your Brainiac was killed,” said Mike with grim darkness in his voice.  “I don’t want to know any more.”

“Let’s put it behind us then,” said Moustachio.  “I see a good place to land, right there by that stand of trees ahead.  It’s far enough from the houses that we won’t seem like an immediate threat.  Maybe we can talk our way out of this.”

“I thought you said you could talk our way out of this!” complained Mike the Brainiac as he dodged laser fire behind a rock.  “You call this a diplomatic solution?”

“No!” shouted Harrison from behind another rock.  “I call this aggressive negotiations!”  He hurled his boomerang, and it struck true, decapitating an advancing snowman.

When the two had landed, they approached the two houses slowly with open hands.  Harrison stashed his boomerang in his belt with no intention of using it, but then dozens of snowmen forced him to change his mind!  They were now in the thick of it.

“How come I always end up hiding behind a rock?” muttered Harrison.

“At least you have me for company.  Now what?!” asked Brainiac in frustration.  “Hang on!  My phone is ringing!”  Mike stopped to answer his phone.  Unsurprisingly, it was the Snowman on the line.

“You guys better get out of here now!” warned the Snowman.  “I know what you’re here for, and it’s mine!”

“Snowman, it’s Mike…you remember me don’t you?  That tape doesn’t belong to you.  We know you stole it from Max the Axe and we’re here to get it back.”

“Of course I know you Mike…I cradled you in my arms as I watched you die!  And I don’t care where you came from or how you got here but that tape is mine!  I must have the precious.”  Snowman hung up.

“So much for negotiations, aggressive or otherwise!” shouted Mike to Harrison.  “We’re going to have to take it by force.”

“With only my boomerang, against all these snowmen?” asked the Australian as he hurled the projectile again.

“Wait…I have an idea!” exclaimed the Brainiac.  I just need to hack into the Snowman’s sound system with my phone!  Buy me time, Moustachio!”

“I’ll do my best,” answered the Australian, with doubt in his voice.  Brainiac was frantically working on his phone, trying to figure out the Snowman’s password.  Harrison stood upon the rock, and threw his boomerang again, taking out three snowmen with a single shot.  It returned to his hand true as ever, but the snowman army kept advancing.

“Please hurry!” he pleaded.  “I can’t hold them off forever!  He must have a whole snowman factory in there!”

“I’m trying!  I cannot crack this password,” said a panicked Brainiac.

“Maybe you’re overthinking it!” advised Moustachio.  “Try something really stupid!”

With that, the Brainiac tried one of the dumbest passwords he could think of:  PASSWORD1.

“I’m in!  Harrison you’re a genius!” cried Brainiac in glee.  He then quickly changed the password, locking out the Snowman.  “Alright…here we go…wish me luck.  Cranking the volume to 10 and hitting play…”

At that, music suddenly poured across the field.  The chyme of beautiful strings and piano filled the entire area.  All the snowmen stopped, as if hypnotized by the music.  And then, the singing began.

“Beth I hear you calling, but I can’t come home right now,” came the voice from the massive sound system.  “Me and the boys are playin’, and we just can’t find the sound…”

Laughing, Harrison jumped off the rock in hysterics.  “Oh, now that’s both hilarious and genius,” he said to the Brainiac.  “Call Snowman back…tell him we have the high ground now.”

Mike dialed, but the Snowman wasn’t answering.  The song looped back to the start.  The snowmen were motionless.  “Beth I hear you calling…” repeated the song.  Taking a deep breath, Mike stood and watched.

“It’s a waiting game now.  How long can he endure ‘Beth’ at that volume?” said Mike to Harrison.

“I give him an hour,” said Moustachio.  “Two hours tops.”

It was far shorter than that.  Within 15 minutes, Snowman emerged from one of his houses, waving a white flag and carrying an 8-track tape in his hands.

“I surrender!  I surrender!  Please turn off that awful ballad!  I can’t take anymore!”  He was trying to cover his ears while waving the flag and holding the tape.  If the situation wasn’t so serious, it would be quite comical.

“Hand over the tape Snowman, and Mike will stop playing ‘Beth’!” ordered Harrison, with boomerang in hand.

“Take it, take it, take it, I don’t even care anymore!” cried the Snowman.  “I never want to hear that terrible song again!”  He handed the tape over to Harrison, and Mike used his phone to stop the music.  It was over.

The three sat at a picnic table, drinking sweet tea.  The conflict had ended, and peace had fallen over the clearing.  The snowmen had long since melted in the heat, creating muddy pools of water in the field.  Snowman was deeply sorry for attacking his two friends.

“This is so strange,” said Snowman to the Brainiac.  “The last time you and I sat at this table was the day you died,” he explained.  “But I guess you’re back now?”

“Not exactly,” said Harrison.  “I was lost in the multiverse.  I found a version of Mike who was identical in every way to ours, but he was alone.  I brought him back with me.  We call him Brainiac II to keep things simple.”

“And to quote Gene Simmons, I fit like a glove!” laughed the Brainiac.

“I’m glad we can laugh at this now that it’s over,” said a relieved Snowman.  “Did you ever find Edie Van Heelin’s killer?” he asked.

“Who?” asked a perplexed Brainiac in return.

“Never mind,” said the Snowman.  “All’s well that ends well.”

“That it is,” said Harrison.  “But I think it’s time to open this.”  He placed the wooden box that Max the Axe had given them earlier on tabletop.  “Max said we’d know when it was time to open this, so I think now is the time.”  He used his boomerang to break the latch, and then pushed it across the table to Snowman.  “This is your compensation for the Creatures of the Night tape.”

Snowman gasped.  “What’s in it?”

“We don’t know,” answered the Brainiac.  “Open it and see!”

And so the Snowman did.  Lifting the top of the box, his eyes glowed when he saw what was inside.

“Why…this box is filled with sealed copies of Kiss Animalize on 8-track!” he exclaimed.  “I…can’t thank you enough!  Here, take this one and give it to Mr. Durling.”  He handed over one tape to the Brainiac.  “I am so happy!  And I’m also glad I didn’t kill you.  It would suck to see you die twice.”

The Brainiac laughed and shook the Snowman’s hand.  “I’m glad too.  Now we have to be off.  We have an appointment with Mr. Durling, and he won’t believe it when we bring him both Creatures and Animalize on 8-track.  Thank you for your cooperation, Snowman.”

The three shook hands.  Mike and Harrison began walking towards the jet.

“Wait!!” cried the Snowman.  “Can you unlock my stereo system before you go?”

Mike reached for his phone and laughed.  “There you go – password reset.  But man, you gotta think of better passwords in the future!”

With that, the two climbed on board and soared back to Canada.  The first mission of the new Northern Lights now complete, the boys blasted a CD of Creatures of the Night in the jet as they made their way home.  All was well in the land.

Until next mission, that is!

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

  • Chapter One:  Creatures of the Night (by LeBrain)

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures: Tales From The Multiverse Chapter 4: Homeward Bound by Harrison Kopp

by Harrison Kopp

Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures
Tales From The Multiverse

 

Homeward Bound

Brainiac II looked out the window. It had been cloudy earlier, but it had cleared up since. The sun shone low on the horizon, painting a hazy shade of winter across the sky as the final bits of cloud dispersed.

Blast it. He thought to himself. If I don’t hurry up I’m going to miss the sunset.

Ever since the Calamity, nothing has been the same.  Especially sunsets.

“Jen…” he whispered solemnly.  She would have loved these sunsets.

No-one ever found out where the sickness originated.  There were theories, conspiracy and otherwise.  In the beginning, it felt like the flu.  Within weeks, it was on every continent except Antarctica.  There was a race for a vaccine, but as the months wore on, it never materialized as promised.  The death toll rose until, eventually, half the population was decimated.  Then, the virus burned out as quickly as it came.  There hasn’t been a confirmed case in a year.

Sometimes the Brainiac wondered why he lived when everyone else he knew didn’t.  Something in his genes, or just dumb luck.  Or bad luck, he thought.  Sometimes he dreamed that Jen was still here, but just…away.  Away in space, in orbit, or on the moon.  Just out of communication.  He both loved, and hated those dreams.

Back to reality.

He put the last few jars away in the cupboard, making sure everything was in order.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. All as it should be.

He was finally done in the kitchen. The 7 o’clock news was coming over the radio, something or other about the current boxing champion. But Brainiac II didn’t really care at the moment. It was all just voices of old people to him.

He stepped outside into the winter evening. The sunset was beautiful this night. One of the best he had ever seen. It would have looked amazing from above.

He sat on the bench, gazing out over the lake as the sun dipped over the horizon. It was so serene. A squirrel sat in the ground next to him, eating a nut. A sparrow flew overhead, finding a tree to rest for the night.

With the sun fully below the horizon now, Brainiac II decided it was time to go inside, and turned back into the night. And that’s when he noticed something odd. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of silence.

A too silent night, now that you think about it.

The cool night air touched his skin as he peered out into the forest. The darkness concealed much, but he knew these woods well. It was unlikely someone would have been able to find him here.

But Brainiac II couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He listened out, more closely this time. Now, very faintly, he could just make out what sounded like a car’s engine.

That’s odd. he thought to himself. Mrs Robinson’s the only one who still lives nearby, but she doesn’t have a car.

The sound came a little closer, and then stopped. Brainiac II crouched down, peering out into the gloom. And he didn’t have to wait long to find out who it was.

Out of the brush stepped a most peculiar man. A long-haired man with a moustache. Brainiac II froze cold. He recognised this man. He was older here, but this was the man from his dream. The man who killed him.

The man who, right now, also saw Brainiac II.

“Hey, are you alright?” he called out to the Canadian in the bushes.

“If you think false sincerity is going to get you the jump on me, you are sorely mistaken,” Brainiac II said, standing up straight.

“Brainiac…?” Moustachio said. “Boy you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m so relieved to see you.”

“Oh I’ll bet you are. Are you here to finish the job? One half of us wasn’t enough for you?” the Canadian sneered.

“Hey, my name’s Harrison Holden, and you’re my friend the Brainiac,” Moustachio said, trying to remind Brainiac II of a connection the Australian had with the original Brainiac.

“Lies! Deceit! I saw what you did. You may have aged, but I recognise you, plain as day.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’ve been gone for almost a year. And I would never hurt you,” the Australian man said, holding a hand out for the Canadian.

Maybe it was the soft-spoken nature of the Australian, or the way in which he seemed to genuinely believe the words he was saying. Or maybe it was just Brainiac II wanting to believe the words were true. The Canadian cautiously clasped the Australian’s hand in a handshake.

“So tell me, why did you think I was going to attack you?” Moustachio quizzed him.

“Well, last night I had the strangest dream. And I’m not entirely sure that it was just a dream. I saw a man…he looked just like you, except for the moustache. And he was a little younger too. He killed me. I think he knew me before that, too.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘killed’ just yet,” rang out a voice from the darkness. “But it is on my to-do list for the day.”

The two men instantly snapped into action, back-to-back and scouring the darkness with their eyes. Neither could pinpoint the source of the voice yet.

“And what a treat to finally get the chance to end my ‘father’s’ life too,” the voice continued, seemingly coming from all around.

Moustachio pulled his new space-metal boomerang from his holster.

“Don’t count on it.”

“Oh, I love it when they try to fight back,” gloated Shinzon, the evil clone of El Moustachio, as he sauntered out from the darkness. He ignited an emerald green lightsaber, and dropped into a fighting stance. Moustachio positioned himself between Shinzon and Brainiac II.

The two opponents circled one another, occasionally feinting or lunging in an attempt to draw the other into committing to an attack.

Eventually Moustachio thought he saw an opening, and threw his boomerang.  Shinzon just reacted in time, raising his lightsaber to knock the thrown metal blade into the ground beside him.

Shinzon charged at the now-defenceless Moustachio, but the Australian had expected this. Moustachio had run forward too, meeting Shinzon before the latter man had fully readied his blade for an attack. Taking advantage of the momentum, Moustachio slid forward, knocking Shinzon’s legs out from under him.

Shinzon got to his feet, now in a slight panic, and looked around for his opponent. But instead he spotted Brainiac II right nearby him. A cruel smile crossed his lips.

“This was the very lightsaber the original Brainiac tried to kill me with. How poetic, it will be the weapon to kill you. It almost rhymes.”

And he swung his lightsaber down at Brainiac II.

Moustachio had blocked the slash with his boomerang, holding back the might of his dark reflection. Sparks flew from where the two weapons met, but Moustachio held firm. The forgemaster was right – his weapon would not fail him.

Mustering all his strength, he pushed back, and Shinzon was sent staggering backward. Moustachio cast a quick glance to Brainiac II to make sure he was alright, in which time Shinzon had recovered and brought his blade back up to guard.

“Hahaha!” the clone cackled. “Is that really all you’ve got?”

But before either of the two men could continue the fight, the ground in front of them shattered with an ear-splitting crack. The two faced each other, both somewhat unsure how to proceed.

Then a deep voice bellowed out from seemingly nowhere.

“YOU CANNOT HIDE ANYMORE! YOUR DOOM IS AT HAND, WORM!”

Shinzon frantically looked around the night sky, terrified. Moustachio spied this and pressed the man for information.

“What is this? I know you know!”

Shinzon turned to him, the colour drained from his face and not even caring that they were fighting just seconds ago.

“Unicron. He’s found me.”

A chill ran down Moustachio and Brainiac II’s spines. They both recognised that name, and they both knew the incredible destructive potential. And then they saw it. Right there in the night sky, taking up almost their entire view.

A large chunk of the Earth broke away from the crust and flew upwards towards the giant mouth in the sky. A small town could be seen on the rock. It had to be home to ten thousand people, maybe more. All gone now.

Brainiac II was in shock, still trying to comprehend the reality that Unicron was real. Moustachio turned back to face Shinzon. Despite the fact that the man across the chasm had just tried to kill them, Moustachio still thought he deserved better than to be devoured by the god of chaos.

“What about you? Can you even escape this planet?””

“Don’t worry about me. I think I know somewhere they can’t find me,” Shinzon yelled over the abyss before disappearing into the darkness. Moustachio turned to Brainiac II.

“Come on, we have to be quick. My car’s not far from here”, he said, breaking into a run.

“Your car?” Brainiac II asked, more than a little quizzically.

“It’s no ordinary car,” Moustachio replied.

With Moustachio guiding them both as he retraced his steps, they found the car before it could be swallowed up by the crumbling earth below. They both jumped in, not even bothering with seat belts, and Moustachio floored it.

The ground began to crack under them, racing along with the car. Fissures of lava spurted out of brand new “potholes” in the ground. Moustachio weaved around them, all the while continuing to increase his speed.

An orange explosion engulfed the car. Moustachio closed his eyes, daring not to look. After a few seconds of engine noise, he slowly opened them.

“Whew.”

Everything was quiet. Around the car was a serene Canadian countryside. No lava, no fire, no giant demonic planet in the sky. To his left Brainiac II was breathing heavily, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

“What is this? A time machine?” the older man finally asked.

“No, even better,” Moustachio replied. “A vehicle for traversing the multiverse.”

“The multiverse?” Brainiac II queried, hardly believing his ears.

“Yep, the times, they are a-changing. But for now they’re going to be a bit more familiar. I think this is it this time. I think I’ve finally made it home.”

“Home…” Brainiac II echoed.

“Yours too now, I think. We used to be old friends. I hope one day I can call you that again”, Moustachio said. “We’ll head to the cottage tomorrow, but for now, let’s find a place to stay for the rest of the night.”

EPILOGUE:  Two months later…

Though Moustachio ached for Australia, he hadn’t minded being away from home in Canada.  It was summer in Canada, while back home it was winter, and Canadian summers were not so bad.

He recalled the night they arrived here, at the Brainiac’s cottage.  It was dusk, but the wooden structure in the trees was exactly how he imagined it.

There was a car in the driveway.  There was a light on inside.  Moustachio and Brainiac II exited the Interceptor and slammed the doors.  This caused a great commotion inside, since company was not expected.  You can imagine the waterworks on the faces of Jen, and Mike’s family, when they saw the living and breathing Brainiac II before them.  They lost their Brainiac a year prior, killed by Shinzon…and their Mike was an identical person to Brainiac II, who had lost his own family.  Everyone was there, even Ripper the Squirrel.  He leapt upon Moustachio’s shoulders and kissed his face, unable to believe that his Australian friend had returned after so long.

After the emotional and teary reunion, Moustachio knew they had to get back to business.  A phone call to Tee Bone Man, whom they discovered had retired after seemingly defeating Shinzon and losing his powers, revealed that there was now a new team of superheroes:  the Northern Lights!  And with the help of their sponsor and de facto leader, Mr. Durling, Moustachio and Brainiac II established a new headquarters.  You couldn’t have asked for a better one than the cottage in the woods.

“I could get used to this,” said Moustachio, surveying all the new equipment they had at hand, feet up in the most serene of surroundings.

“It’s no so bad, huh?” agreed Brainiac II.  “I think I’m finally happy.”

“That’s good to hear,” responded Moustachio.  “Would you mind switching on that screen?  I want to scan for threats, now that Mr. Durling has provided all this new top-secret tech.”

“You got it,” smiled the Brainiac.  “But Unicron aside, you haven’t told me much about what we are up against.”

“Oh, you wait and see!” grinned the Australian.  “We have adventures ahead that will rock your socks off.  Get ready, Brainiac – we’re just getting started!”

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT MONTH in THE ADVENTURES OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS Chapter One! 

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

  • Chapter One:  Creatures of the Night (by LeBrain)

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM

Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures: Tales From The Multiverse Chapter 3 by Harrison Kopp

by Harrison Kopp

Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures
Tales From The Multivers Chapter 3

 

Part 1 – Man Of A Thousand Blades

Sunset Town

The 21st century

An hour before it’s dark

 

Sweat was pouring off El Moustachio’s brow. The heat of the furnace was intense. The temperature needed to melt this metal of interstellar origin was unimaginable. The master of the forge, an aging individual with a black beard and more lines on his face than most had years lived, watched over the proceedings.

“If you forge it properly, it will be harder and sharper than any other metal you will find. But fail in your technique and it will fail you when you will need it most.”

Moustachio was concentrating intently. The skill required was beyond anything he had trained for in the past. And that included the mandatory boomerang training he had taken in school back when he was a kid.

Finishing his efforts, he set the blade to cool. That afternoon, the pair returned, and the forgemaster inspected the Australian’s handiwork.

Moustachio had crafted a new boomerang. It was still moustache-shaped, but this time it was a little different. His previous boomerang had had the grips on each end and the blade in the middle, but this one reversed it. He could still throw it with ease, but now, with the blades on the ends, he could also wield it in close quarters as one would a double-bladed knife. Easily the superior weapon of the two.

The forgemaster turned it over in his hand, running his eye along the cutting edge.

“Never have I seen so flawless a blade in all my years teaching,” the master said.

“Thank you,” said Moustachio.

“And never before have I seen so many attempts.” The older man continued, gesturing to the many discarded semi-completed blades (Moustachio had been here only 80 days, but had spent most of them in the forge).  “You have learned well with each try, and your determination and drive for perfection is beyond that of any of my previous students. This blade will not fail you.”

And so the time came for Moustachio to move on in his travels through the multiverse. He bid his master farewell and gunned the engine of the V8 interceptor, roaring off into the great unknown with his new weapon.

 

 

Part 2- Tennessee Bones & The Temple Of Doom Metal

 

South America

1995

 

Tennessee Bones strode purposefully through the South American jungles, occasionally pausing to hack at some vines blocking his path. Behind him walked El Moustachio, enjoying the clear path the former man had created. The two men were here trying to locate a hidden temple dedicated to Doom Metal.

It was rumoured to contain many artefacts of the musical genre, some of which had essentially become ‘extinct’ in the music collector’s scene in the rest of the world. But so too had the temple and its treasures been lost. The two men were following a tattered map. While they both had their doubts as to its veracity, they were both willing to give it a try.

Abruptly, Tennessee came to a standstill. Under the brim of his fedora hat his eyes studied the dense vegetation in front of him. Then, without a word, he stalked forward and made three direct cuts to a specific part of foliage.

The plants melted away to reveal a hole in a rocky wall. From inside the faint sound of wind could be heard.

“Looks like it’s through here,” he called back to his Australian companion.

The two men carefully ventured forth. There was no telling what traps had been laid to protect the precious musical artefacts inside.

 

 

After a short time, with more than a few close calls, they happened across a large circular chamber, with pedestals lining the outer wall. A mass of candles lit the room, and atop each pedestal sat a vinyl record or compact disc (as well as a few other, more obscure, music formats). The two men knew they were in business.

Tennessee could hardly contain himself, bounding forward with such enthusiasm that if there had been any traps in the room he would have gleefully sprung them without the chance to react.

“The superintendent will be thrilled with these finds. The museum will be having a new exhibit alright. We might even need to build a new wing to house it all. I won’t be able to bring this all back with me in one trip.”

The Canadian ran from pedestal to pedestal, gawking at sights once thought completely lost to mankind.

Moustachio homed in on one in particular:  Black Sabbath’s 1970 debut album. There was an entire shrine dedicated to it at the back of the room, with copies of the album on every possible format. Even 8-track! Moustachio wasn’t even sure if it came on 8-Track back in his home universe.

The plaque below the display described the album as the forebearer of the genre.

It seems some things do remain consistent across the universes, Moustachio thought to himself.

Tennessee had no use for it. It was, after all, widely available, unlike some of the other rare finds in the room. Moustachio happily helped himself to the cassette edition of the album. Why that one in particular, I hear you ask?

Well part of the process of transferring universes using the V8 Interceptor required the driver to be listening to pure rock music. Where before he would have to tune into the radio and get lucky, now he could play it on demand.

(Is Black Sabbath strictly rock music? Well, heavy metal founders this, riffmaster that yadda yadda. They still count as rock music in my book. I’m pretty sure they described themselves as hard rock music back in the day. Motorhead would always introduce themselves as rock and roll too. And besides, these are just labels record companies give bands to market them to people who liked similar bands. Iron Maiden aren’t heavy metal, or hard rock or progressive metal- their Iron Maiden! Listen to whatever you want to, and don’t let anyone tell you you can’t enjoy Ghost because “they’re not heavy metal”).

Anyway, sorry about that. Back to the story. The two men parted ways, happy to have spent the time together in company, but both with their own paths to tread. Tennessee Bones still had numerous treasures to uncover, and Moustachio once again set out into the infinite multiverse searching for a way home.

 

Part 3 – A World Without Heroes

Earth-88

1942

 The throaty crackle of a powerful V8 engine shattered the stillness of the Egyptian desert morning. Its dawn chorus was echoed by the quieter, but rougher, sound of a diesel truck engine.

Racing through sand roads was Moustachio’s V8 Interceptor, now with a modification to the rear to fit one large fuel tank and another large tank with an assortment of compartments for various liquids. Being out on the road in the multiverse often took him away from oil and coolant for extended periods of time.

Fleeing the black car was a Mercedes-Benz LG3000. The workhorse truck had had a head start, but Moustachio had quickly closed the distance. The Australian pulled a revolver from his door-well and fired at the truck’s rear. This did not escape the notice of its occupants, and out from inside the truck swung a stony-faced German in black armour.

He effortlessly climbed to the roof of the truck and fearlessly turned to face the source of the bullets.

Moustachio fired again. Three shots. With almost impossible reflexes, the unusual German Soldier raised his shield, blocking them all. Upon his shield was a familiar 3-point star insignia.

The German was not content to merely soak up ballistics, however, and promptly hurled his shield directly at the V8 Interceptor’s windscreen.

Moustachio swerved to avoid the flying shield, nearly taking out a wandering camel. The shield, meanwhile, bounced off the ground at a peculiar angle, before ricocheting off a rock wall and returning to its owner’s arm.

Suddenly Moustachio knew exactly who this was. And he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of having to take on Captain America. Well, more like his German variant. Kapitan Deutschland, probably.

They were approaching the outskirts of Cairo now. This chase could get infinitely more dangerous if it continued. Bullets sprayed the air next to his car, and he flicked his eyes to the mirrors. A couple of German pursuit cars had caught up to him.

Crud, Moustachio thought to himself.

Atop the truck Kapitan Deutschland readied his shield for another throw. Behind him the vehicular gunners adjusted their aim. Between the two of them, one would hit their target.

With a heavy heart, Moustachio had to withdraw from this chase.

Regretfully he gunned the engine and disappeared into another universe seconds before his position was riddled with gunfire. He hated to leave the cargo in the hands of the Germans, let alone give them free reign on the rest of this world, but he had no choice.

One day I’ll come back he thought to himself as he disappeared in a fiery-orange flash.

Part 5 – A Selection Of Items That Can Be Found In The Interceptor’s Back Seat

 

The Cross Factour Live

As you could imagine, in the multiverse you could often find alternate versions of history. In the music world this meant a wealth of albums you could only dream of back home. Moustachio had bought a few of them along with him. For his friend Tee Bone Man there was the rest of the Van Halen discography with David Lee Roth on vocals. For the Brainiac there was Kiss’s Creatures of the Night album, but with Eddie Van Halen playing guitar instead of Ace Frehley. He’d also taken the 8-track copy of Black Sabbath, for good measure. There could be some weird people out there who collected formats that they couldn’t even play.

For himself, Moustachio had a couple of interesting finds. He had grabbed a neat 7” single from Thin Lizzy for the song “Reelin’ in the Years”. He knew this as a Steely Dan song in his home universe, but routinely called it the best Thin Lizzy song they never wrote. He was thrilled to have a version with Phil Lynott singing, and the sizzling dual-guitars.

But the best find for him was the live album from Iron Maiden’s ’95 – ’96 tour, with Tony Martin on vocals. Moustachio loved Blaze Bayley, but he also always wanted to hear what it would have sounded like if Tony Martin replaced Bruce Dickinson in 1994.

 

A Dual IPA Beer

This was a genius one. Someone had invented a bottle with two distinct segments, one taking up the top half of the bottle and the other the bottom half. There was a one-way valve in that divider that allowed liquid from the bottom to enter the top, but not the other way around.

This bottle was filled with two different IPA beers – one in each half. As the drinker drank, the top liquid would be replaced with liquid from the bottom half, ensuring that every single mouthful tasted different. A truly revolutionary concept.

This would, however, upon reaching the halfway point, also make it look like the remaining liquid was levitating.

 

Kylo Ren’s Lightsaber

On Kef Bir, Moustachio had bartered with a fisherman for the lightsabre Kylo Ren had thrown into the sea when he turned back to the light side. It wasn’t functioning anymore, as the water had thoroughly soaked the insides, but Moustachio was sure his friends back home could get it working again.

 

 

Part 45– Colourful Dossier

Earth-1340

 

This was a weird one. El Moustachio had found himself in a universe where everything appeared to be made out of some form of plastic building block. It took a lot of getting used to. Not being able to scratch one’s own back was certainly a bummer, but he came to appreciate the simplicity of the world in a lot of aspects.

It didn’t take him long to find a group of like-minded heroes. The League of Extraordinary Minifigures, as they had named themselves, were more than willing to accept Moustachio’s assistance in their endeavours. And while he would embark on several adventures with this team, he ultimately decided to move on and seek his home universe once again.

 

Now these are, of course, only a small selection of El Moustachio’s exploits in the multiverse. The true extent of his adventures stretched over several months and are too numerous to give form to in this level of detail. But we will give you a taste of the next full-length adventure in this series in the coming paragraphs.

 

Part 6 – A Savage Circle

A World Not Too Dissimilar To Our Own

Wednesday Morning, 3AM

 

With an uncontrollable scream, the Brainiac lifted his lightsaber in the air with both hands, ready to strike the killing blow.  “Time to die, clone!”  He swung the blade down…

…And was met with the sharp end of a Vibranium boomerang embedded in his chest.  In his mad rage, he could not see that Shinzon was still armed, with the deadly boomerang in his right hand.  Shinzon grinned wide as he shoved it deep.

“Time to die indeed!” he cried in victory, as the Brainiac collapsed on the ground.

Barely able to speak, Brainiac sputtered blood from his mouth and fell to his knees as his vision blurred.

He awoke with a start. Not the same Brainiac that was killed by Shinzon, though. This one lived in a different universe (and we shall refer to him as Brainiac II henceforth, to avoid confusion). He was soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. He couldn’t believe the nightmare he just had. It was a nightmare right? It felt so visceral and real.

He lay back down in his bed and tried not to think about it. Life had been crap enough recently, without adding thoughts of his imminent death to it.

But it was at this very moment that his life was about to change for the better, as elsewhere in the Bruce County, one El Moustachio and his V8 Interceptor burst into this universe in a burst of golden-brown flame.

 

 

 

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

  • Chapter One:  A New Beginning

 

SPINOFFS AND SIDE QUESTS

 

THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’

THE WRITER’S ROOM