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Posts Tagged ‘Guy Magistro’

An Unimportant Matter

Posted by meekrat on September 24, 2010

It was the early nineties, and Mister Lucky, famed member of the Basset Hound Brigade, found himself tied to a chair. He was quite surprised, as this sort of thing hadn’t happened in decades. Since he was a rookie, in fact, just starting out in the adventuring business. A cold shiver went up his spine as he realized that he was genuinely surprised by this turn of events. While to the world at large he was the Luckiest Man in the World, he was actually the smartest man who ever lived, and had long been able to extrapolate what would happen to him using his excessive intelligence. Surprise was something that no longer happened to him. As he tried to free himself from his bonds, he felt his finger brush against another finger, followed by a low groan. Another surprise. It was not a very good day.

Mister Lucky tried to turn to look at his fellow prisoner, but whoever tied him to the chair knew darn well that a knot had to be tied ungodly tight to trap Mister Lucky. He settled on whispering, “Hey there, I’m Mister Lucky, and today’s your lucky day, because I’m going to get us out of this mess! But wait, there’s more! When I find out who did this, I’ll kick his teeth in!”

He waited a few moments for the other prisoner to respond, and when he did, Mister Lucky instantly recognized the voice of Shoshy Raphael, “Not my lucky day if I’m stuck here with you.”

“Sure it is. You’re some Detroit councilman, you’re on the straight and narrow! It’s my job to save people like you, long as you don’t try to kill me first,” said Mister Lucky, “Now let’s see about getting out of here.”

A light went on, momentarily blinding Mister Lucky. He bet it did the same to Shoshy Raphael, and another groan confirmed this. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a figure standing in the shadows.

“You’re awake. Good. I was getting bored,” said the figure, “My name is unimportant, but my message is quite important.”

“Well then, Unimportant, give us the message and let us go on our way,” said Mister Lucky, smiling wryly.

“I’m not stupid,” said Unimportant, “For too long, you and your kind have been a cancer upon this world. Adventurers and costumed heroes and the like running around thinking they’re better than the average man. I’ve taken the liberty of reuniting the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group, or at least those I could find, and there’s quite the surprise waiting for all of you once you’re out of here.”

“What kind of surprise?” slurred Shoshy Raphael, probably coming off the effects of some sort of drug.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” said Unimportant, “In five minutes, I’m sure you’ll both be free. Then you’ll find out what the surprise is.”

The light went off and a door opened. Mister Lucky’s mind and hands began to race.

“He didn’t gloat,” said Mister Lucky.

“So,” said Shoshy Raphael.

“Villains gloat. It’s what they do,” Mister Lucky managed to free one of his hands and began work on the other, “So either he’s not a villain, or… I don’t know.”

Shoshy Raphael sat straight up, “You don’t know?”

“Why’s that so surprising,” said Mister Lucky, freeing his other hand and working on the other bonds, “I’m the World’s Luckiest Man, not the smartest one.”

Shoshy slouched, “Yes. Of course. Are you almost free?”

Mister Lucky stood up and began untying Shoshy Raphael, “Sure am! Sit tight, councilman, I’ll get you out of here in a jiffy.”

A minute and twenty seconds later, Shoshy Raphael stood up. Neither he nor Mister Lucky looked a day older than they had in the nineteen-twenties, owing their longevity and youthfulness to a mystical dragon ring and an immortality serum, respectively. Mister Lucky closed his eyes and turned on the light. The door was open, at once inviting and menacing.

“I’m not looking forward to this surprise,” spat Mister Lucky, making his way to the door regardless. He looked out and saw a dimly-lit warehouse, and not a very good one, either. There was a catwalk connecting several second-story rooms and an empty floor. No boxes at all. In addition to a normal door, there were two loading docks.

Shoshy Raphael joined him at the doorway and peeked out, holding his ivory cane in front of him, “No boxes? What is this world coming to?”

“I know,” said Mister Lucky, “Back in the good old days, you made sure there were boxes to buckle swashes off of and all that.”

“Remember the Charleston Death Ray,” asked Shoshy Raphael, “You almost didn’t make it out of that one.”

“I think that was your most fiendish plan,” said Mister Lucky, almost smiling.

Shoshy Raphael did smile, “Why is that? The casualties? The far-reaching implications of such a device?”

“Nope,” said Mister Lucky, “If it wasn’t for that, I think that stupid Charlie Charleston would never have shown up.”

“Ah, yes. Charlie. During the second Great War, we all joked that he was the true force behind Adolf Hitler,” said Shoshy Raphael, “Could you imagine it? A legion of Nazis dancing the Charleston across the battlefield? A race of Aryan Supermen who were exceptional at dancing that infernal dance.”

“I shudder to think,” said Mister Lucky, “Just because I’m all chummy with you right now doesn’t mean I like you. I still think you’re one of the worst eggs I’ve ever come across.”

“Of course. My hatred for you is matched only by my hatred for Edwin Cloudstar,” said Shoshy.

“Who? Never mind, let’s check the other rooms. See if our compatriots are in them,” said Mister Lucky.

A quick check of the rooms revealed the Amazing Rando tied to a chair with Vinny Fitzpatrick, Guerdon Trueblood shackled together with the Impossible Mister Frink, Guy Magistro chained to a wall with Jojo Jenkins by his side, and Simon McCockindale in a room with Dick Douglas. All had been visited by Unimportant.

“I can’t wait for the surprise,” said Vinny Fitzpatrick, “D’ya think it’s a party?”

“Nazi jewel thieves,” said Dick Douglas, “I’d bet your hat on it.”

Guy Magistro flicked his wrist and summoned his basket of magic eggs, “Don’t be daft. We’ve done nothing worth celebrating. More likely that fool means to kill us.”

As if on cue, a large television screen flipped down from the ceiling and the silhouetted Unimportant appeared on its screen. The collective members of the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group looked up and waited.

“By my estimates, you should all have escaped by now. Don’t bother looking for me, as I’ve been gone for several minutes, and I took measures to keep you from following me. Now, if you’ll look down, you’ll see two loading bay doors. If my instructions are followed, then they should be opening now,” said Unimportant. The doors did, in fact, open and ten men walked out of the trailers. The Bassets and Nantucket Dragon Group looked down upon them warily. Unimportant continued, “I scoured the Earth to find beings who were your polar opposites. Anti-Bassets and Anti-Dragons, if you wish. It’s my hope that you all kill each other, though I admit my hopes aren’t very high. Have at it, gentlemen.”

The screen ascended and the ten men stared up at the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group.

“It’s impossible for us to survive,” gasped Mister Frink.

“Anything’s possible,” said a hippie, among the men on the ground, “I can do what you do, Mister Frink. You can call me the possible Mister Harold.”

“I never liked hippies,” said Mister Frink, under his breath.

“There’s no chance you can beat us,” said Mister Lucky, “I mean, look at you? Are you supposed to be my guy?”

A hulking brute of a man dressed like Mister Lucky just stared, “I’m Mister Unlucky. We’re gonna kill you dead.”

“I like him,” said Shoshy Raphael with a grin, “Right to the point. Nantucket Dragon Group, it would appear that they’re one short, and I’m sure we’re all terribly busy, so why don’t we end this quickly?”

“It’s been years since we done that,” said Simon McCockindale, “You think he’s still around?”

“Of course,” said Guy Magistro, “He’s a demon.”

“True,” said Simon McCockindale.

“Fire,” said Shoshy Raphael, thrusting out his fist.

“Earth,” said Guy Magistro, doing the same.

“Air,” said Guerdon Trueblood.

“Water,” said the Amazing Rando.

“Energy,” said Simon McCockindale.

The five dragon rings each emitted a beam of energy, meeting in the center of the room and drilling into the ground. Moments later, in a flash of brimstone and fire, the demonic hobo Baggy Satan emerged.

“What’s all this, then?” he said, honestly confused. He looked around and realized what was happening, “You lot! Just the other day I was having a chat with me mate about you! How long’s it been?”

“Decades,” said Shoshy Raphael, “If you would, destroy all those men on the ground.”

Baggy Satan’s eyes glowed with happiness, “Truly? No pullin’ levers or makin’ bears out of pizza? Just straight up hellfire an’ brimstone?”

“Yes!” said Shoshy Raphael.

The men on the ground began to converse nervously, and then they all stepped back. The possible Mister Harold waved to the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group, “Sorry, fellas, but we quit. Come on, Mister Unlucky.”

The veins on Mister Unlucky’s neck throbbed, his eyes bulged, and his suit tore. He turned to the possible Mister Harold and growled at him, “No!” He ran at Baggy Satan and punched him into a wall, leaving an imprint. There was a collective gasp, “I don’t run!”

“We do,” said Mister Harold, “Good luck taking on ten men and a demon.”

With that, the Anti-Bassets and Anti-Dragons disbanded, leaving only Mister Unlucky to oppose the Nantucket Dragon Group and Basset Hound Brigade.

“I don’t run, neither,” said Baggy Satan, standing up and wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, “Let’s see you do that again!”

Mister Unlucky cracked his knuckles and lumbered towards Baggy Satan, who lashed out with a flaming uppercut that threw Mister Unlucky into the air. He landed with a sickening crack, but immediately stood back up, tearing out a piece of the floor and hurling it at Baggy Satan. The demon countered it with a stream of hellfire, and then turned the fire on Mister Unlucky. He shielded his face from the fire and strode through it as if it were water, back-handing Baggy Satan once he reached him.

“Should we help?” said Vinny Fitzpatrick.

“Already on it,” said Mister Lucky, who took out a notebook, wrote something down, and slid the notebook into his pocket. Scant seconds later, a hundred Mister Luckys appeared in the warehouse and all of them swarmed Mister Unlucky. The brute easily threw them off and used several of them as weapons against Baggy Satan.

“He’s impossible to defeat,” said Mister Frink, whose words caused the large television to fall from the ceiling and crash upon Mister Unlucky, knocking him to the ground. Baggy Satan spat on him and vanished back into Hell and all the Mister Luckys dissolved into goo. The one true Mister Lucky made his way down and walked over to the fallen brute.

He checked for a pulse, “Oh my god. He’s still alive.”

“Quite a feat,” said Shoshy Raphael, “Now then, are we going to continue this little team-up or can we all go our separate ways?”

“We’re done here,” said Mister Lucky, nudging Mister Unlucky with his foot, “Be on the look-out, though. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of this Unimportant. Or Mister Unlucky.”

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Mister Lucky’s Off Day

Posted by meekrat on September 20, 2010

The sunlight poked through the curtains of the Impossible Mister Frink’s quarters, slowly engulfing the modest hotel suite he called home in a dank light. He grumbled to himself and rolled over, pulling his nightcap over his ears to block out a din coming from other room in the hotel. The whole situation was not to his liking, and he ached to return to his rooms at Oxford with the terrible beds and cobweb-infested windows. He could get a decent night’s sleep there, and he could be certain that any noise he heard could be quelled with the threat of expulsion or some sort of reading assignment. Yet, as a member of the Basset Hound Brigade, he was counted on to reside in New York, though he refused to stay at the Fox’s Den, the storied home of the Basset Hound Brigade.

The riotous din was growing closer, and suddenly Mister Frink’s bedroom door flew open, revealing the all too familiar face of Mister Lucky, upon which the unfamiliar look of fear had settled, “Wake up, Frinky! Wake up!”

Mister Frink attempted to roll over, but knew that there was no stopping Mister Lucky once he set his mind upon something and so he rolled onto his back and sat up, “What the devil? Mister Lucky, why are you in my private rooms?”

Mister Lucky smiled, completely failing to convey any sense of comfort or happiness, “Today’s your lucky day, Frinky! It’s our day off!”

Mister Frink’s brow furrowed, his mind already acting at peak efficiency despite being active for a meager amount of minutes, “We do not take holidays. We are adventurers and scholars!”

Despite his obvious fear, Mister Lucky cocked an eyebrow and managed a sly smile, “Would you say it’s impossible?”

Mister Frink folded his arms across his chest, “Yes! It’s quite impossible for us to take a day off!” Slowly, Mister Frink realized that he had activated his power to affect probability, which rendered the impossible quite possible indeed, “Oh, drat. I’ve done it again.”

Mister Lucky dug through Mister Frink’s closet and pulled out a suitcase, and then took it over to the wardrobe and began tossing various items in, “You sure have! What do you want to do with your day off?”

“I’d quite like to return to my slumber,” said Mister Frink, already reclining and shutting his eyes.

Mister Lucky stopped packing the suitcase and leapt atop the bed, grabbing Mister Frink by his lapels and pulling him up, panic dripping from his every word, “And waste your day off? We should go somewhere! Far, far away! For a very long time!” He laughed nervously, then leapt off the bed and resumed packing.

Sensing that his slumber was over for the time being, Mister Frink removed his covers and walked behind an oriental screen, a gift from an Oriental trader the Bassets had helped previously, “What are you blathering on about?”

Mister Lucky tossed Mister Frink a gray three-piece suit and sat down on the bed, “I got a message from the Nantucket Dragon Group. They’re going to set off a series of bombs in the city today and I don’t want to be here for that.”

Mister Frink emerged from behind the screen fully dressed and straightening his tie, “I’m surprised at your behavior! You are one of the foremost adventurers of this age, and here you are acting like a common coward! I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re addled, for some reason, but we not must turn our backs on this crisis! We must join up with Douglas and the rest and — ”

Mister Lucky slumped forward, removing his bowler hat and putting his forehead in his hands, “They’ve all been kidnapped, Frinky. Every last one. Even Jojo and the Little Spick, and some ancillary member we just inducted last night and who’ll probably be dead before this whole thing is over.”

Mister Frink froze momentarily, “We must save them, even if it seems impossible for us to do so!”

“Oh, damn it. Fine. Let’s go save our…” Mister Lucky ran a few words through his head, found one he was happy with, and continued, “Let’s go save our allies from the clutches of the Nantucket Dragon Group and avert a city-wide disaster.”

“Indeed! First, let us eat breakfast. One can’t operate properly without a full stomach, and I sense that your stomach is very empty indeed,” said Mister Frink, ringing the bell to summon room service.

Mister Lucky smiled pathetically and nodded, “Okay!”

***

In a warehouse across town, the rest of the Basset Hound Brigade was, indeed, in the clutches of the sinister Nantucket Dragon Group.

Vinny Fitzpatrick scowled at the Dragons, “You’ll never get away wit’ this!”

Shoshy Raphael, sleepy-eyed and sharply dressed in a white suit with a fur-lined coat draped across his shoulders, laughed once, “Oh, but I think we will! Just to show you how serious we are we have secured your newest member, Quick-Exit Quinton, to our deadly explosion apparatus!”

Dick Douglas began frothing at the mouth and fighting against his bonds, “You fiend! Let him go and take me instead!”

Vinny tried to turn to look at his detective compatriot but only managed to get his head half-way turned, “I’ve never seen you so worked up about anyone, Mister Dick!”

Dick Douglas stopped struggling for a moment and closed his eyes solemnly, bowing his head and gritting his teeth, “In the short time I’ve known him, he’s become like a brother to me.”

Shoshy Raphael tapped his ivory cane against the floor and smiled maniacally, “All the more reason to destroy him! Amazing Rando, are his bonds secure?”

“Hizzah!” The magician Amazing Rando waved his hands mystically and stroked his immaculate mustache, “Nothing up my sleeve, no slack in the bonds! Let’s make him disappear!”

Shoshy Raphael pointed towards a Cockney pick-pocket, “Is the power prepared, Simon?”

The pick-pocket nodded, “Cor! It sure is, or my name ain’t Simon McCockindale!”

Shoshy Raphael stared for a moment, and then cast his eyes downward, “Yes. Guerdon Trueblood and Guy Magistro, are your tasks complete?”

The Native American warrior Guerdon Trueblood nodded, his voice slowly reaching a crescendo, “As sure as the sun rises in the east and the white man took my land.”

A crazed-looking man in robes and holding a basket filled with colored eggs turned to Shoshy Raphael, “He shall know centuries of pain in moments!”

“Then let our powers combine to summon Baggy Satan,” said Shoshy Raphael, thrusting his ring-adorned fist towards the heavens, “Fire!”

Guy Magistro thrust his fist towards the heavens, “Earth!”

Guerdon Trueblood did the same, “Air!”

As did the Amazing Rando, “Water!”

Simon McCockindale was the final link in this chain of power, “Energy!”

Thin beams of multi-colored light emanated from the rings, arcing towards the sky and quickly descending and meeting in the center of the five members of the Nantucket Dragon Group. As the five beams met, a hellish rainbow drilled towards the Earth and in a flash of fire and brimstone a demonic hobo emerged.

“Blimey! What’s all this, then?” said Baggy Satan, waving his arms to escape the smoke. He recognized his surroundings and rolled his eyes, “Not you lot again.”

“Yes! Baggy Satan, pull the lever that will activate the machine to destroy Quick-Exit Quinton!” shouted Shoshy Raphael, pointing towards the explosion apparatus and a lever not five feet from Simon McCockindale.

Baggy Satan looked from Shoshy Raphael to the lever, and back, and back again, “Really? I could just blast ’em wit’ the ol’ hellfire, I could, or any number o’ creative and ‘orrifying t’ings.”

Shoshy Raphael replied, “The lever, Baggy Satan!”

Baggy Satan floated up to the lever, trying to ignore Simon McCockindale as he did so, “Whatever you say, guv’nar.”

Baggy Satan pulled the lever and the machine below him started slowly, rumbling softly, sounding somewhat like an oncoming train. The Basset Hound Brigade watched in terror as the Nantucket Dragon Group looked on with glee as Quick-Exit Quinton quickly tried to free himself from bondage. An escape artist by trade, he easily freed one of his hands and reached down to undo his feet. With each foot, the machine rumbled louder and more quickly, until Quick-Exit Quinton reached up to free his other hand. As he did so, an explosion erupted from the machine, engulfing Quinton and leaving behind nothing but a singed hand which tumbled into the bowels of the machine.

Dick Douglas screamed, “No! Quinton! You’ve killed him, you filthy bastards! You’ve killed him!”

Shoshy Raphael laughed, “He’s just the first! We shall kill every last one of you do-gooders, as our machine runs on the power of virtuous souls, and we shall use those virtue-laden souls to destroy the city!”

“You people are mad!” shouted Vinny Fitzpatrick.

“Only because that fool Mister Lucky isn’t here to witness my triumph!” said Shoshy Raphael, completely unaware that Mister Lucky was across town arguing with Mister Frink about toast.

Dick Douglas looked around and gestured to his African-American gardener and a young Hispanic man, “Too bad the Jojo and the Little Spick are knocked out. I’m sure they could use their native magicks to free themselves, and then us.”

Vinny Fitzpatrick attempted to glower at him, mouth agape, “That’s a bit racist, don’t ya think?”

Dick Douglas thought about this deeply for a moment, “We’re tied to a wall. How can we be racing?”

Shoshy Raphael giggled madly, “You are racing Douglas! To your deaths!”

A dirty child named Mugsy dropped from the ceiling, landing with a cat’s grace, followed by a baby, a young Brachiosaur, and several other children, “Not so fast! Orphan Freelance is on the case!”

Shoshy Raphael turned towards the new arrivals, his eyes bulging, “What? Urchins? What madness is this?”

“Go get ‘im, Babyface!” shouted Mugsy.

The baby simply sat there, “Goo.”

Mugsy beamed with pride, “We call him that on account of the fact that he’s a baby, with a face!”

“He’s just sitting there,” said the Amazing Rando, who was nevertheless too bewildered and fearful to approach the infant.

Mugsy just smiled, “Okay then, plan B! Brachiosaur?”

Brachiosaur stepped forth, “Brachi!”

Mugsy pointed to the Bassets, “Go free the Basset Hound Brigade!”

The other orphan tugged on Mugsy’s sleeve, “What do you want us to do?”

Mugsy grinned, “Pillage and plunder, same as always! Crack all the safes, and make sure the Little Spick gets his cut or he’ll crack some skulls!”

“Right away!” The other orphan saluted and dashed off with several of his fellows.

Shoshy Raphael waved his arm theatrically, “Nantucket Dragon Group, kill the orphans! Every last one! We shall use their pure souls for our machine!”

Guerdon Trueblood raised his eyebrows, “Bear spirit thinks that’s rather harsh.”

Guy Magistro had no such qualms, however, and was chucking his magical eggs at the orphans as they ran about the warehouse over-turning boxes and making a general mess of things. As the eggs burst, unleashing various magical effects such as bursts of ice and fire, the orphans screamed and fell to the ground. However, Brachiosaur was finishing up his work.

“Brachi brachi!” he said, finishing removing Vinny Fitzpatrick’s bonds.

Vinny Fitzpatrick pat the young dinosaur on his head, “Thanks a load for untyin’ us. Let’s go get ’em, Dick! For Quinton!”

Dick Douglas looked up from rubbing the life back into his wrists, “For who?”

Vinny Fitzpatrick slapped his forehead, “Quinton. The man who said was like a brother to ya.”

Dick Douglas shrugged, “All right, but there’s six of them. The orphans skedaddled, and Jojo and the Little Spick are still lying around being useless. Lazy minorities!”

“They’re knocked out, Dick,” said Vinny, praying that history would understand Dick’s casual racism.

“Yeah, lazy. Anyway, there’s two of us and they have a giant machine to kill us with,” said Dick.

“I know it looks grim, but I think we can pull through!” said Vinny, striking his chest, “Just like Mister Lucky would!”

Dick Douglas looked thoughtful for a moment, “Huh, if that incompetent lout could pull through, then I can, too! Watch out, Nantucket Dragon Group, here we… er, where’d they go?”

Vinny looked around. The Nantucket Dragon Group were nowhere to be seen, nor was their machine, “I think they left while we was talkin’.”

Dick Douglas smiled and rubbed his hands together, “Great! Another case solved. Let’s go get us a drink.”

***

Elsewhere in the city, the Nantucket Dragon Group sat atop their incredibly slow-moving explosion apparatus as it made its way towards the center of the city. Amazing Rando attempted to practice his card tricks while Guy Magistro chucked his magic eggs at passer-by and laughing. Guerdon Trueblood stood with his arms folded, looking over the white man’s domain. Simon McCockindale sat with his legs dangling off the side of the apparatus, wondering if he should use his energy ring to increase the apparatus’s speed. He opted not to, as Shoshy Raphael was standing on the edge and gesturing out towards the city and ranting. Speeding up would no doubt cause him to fall off. Simon McCockindale’s monkey climbed on the outside of the machine while Baggy Satan hovered some distance behind.

“We shall take this apparatus to the very center of the city where we shall use its awesome power to destroy the centers of population,” he shouted, occasionally pointing at a pedestrian.

“Not to be cheeky, sir, but ain’t the whole city a center of population?” said Simon, listlessly waving his legs.

Shoshy Raphael turned to Simon, “That’s now what I meant and you know it.”

“I guess, sir,” said Simon, as he went back to his ponderings.

Shoshy Raphael pointed at the still-rising sun, “In any case, this shall be the first strike of the Nantucket Dragon Group’s war against the world!”

Several streets in front of them, a ghostly voice traveled on the wind, its sing-song cadence heard only by one man, “Here comes Mister Lucky, sad that he missed the handsome young boys…”

Mister Lucky scowled and whispered harshly, “Shut up, you!”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Mister Frink, frowning.

“Never mind, Frinky,” said Mister Lucky, “Here they come! Let’s go!”

Mister Lucky and Mister Frink stepped into the straight, causing the already nearly immobile explosion apparatus to become completely stationary. Shoshy Raphael looked down upon his enemies, “Oh, drat! It’s the rest of the Basset Hound Brigade. No matter, it’s still seven against two!”

The Nantucket Dragon Group descended from atop the explosion apparatus and took up a battle formation in front of the two members of the Basset Hound Brigade. Mister Lucky stood firm, “Too bad you’re facing off against the Luckiest Man in the World!”

Mister Frink stood two steps behind, “Even with your… ahem… luck, it’s impossible for us to triumph!”

“Just what I needed to hear, Frinky! Let’s have it!” said Mister Lucky, lashing out with a roundhouse punch.

It landed on the side of Simon McCockindale’s head, who cried out, “Oh no! I’ve been waylaid!” He slumped to the ground and his monkey dragged him away.

“A bit of fisticuffs, eh? Take this!” said Mister Frink, hitting Guy Magistro in the jaw with a right hook. The sorcerer fell to the ground in a slump. Mister Frink followed up by hitting the Amazing Rando with a right hook.

As the Amazing Rando fell, he said, “Now I see you, now I don’t, because I’m unconscious now!”

Mister Lucky found himself facing the man-mountain known as Guerdon Trueblood, and so he attempted to appeal to the Native American warrior’s better nature, “Your proud native American heritage can’t possibly agree with using innocent souls in a death machine, Trueblood!”

Trueblood looked down at him, “It does when they’re the souls of the white man.”

Mister Lucky smiled and wagged his finger, “In that case…”

A flowerpot fell from the sky and hit Guerdon Trueblood square in the head, knocking him unconscious.

“That flowerpot came out of nowhere,” said Shoshy Raphael, hissing.

“Did it?” said Mister Lucky with a wink, “It’s your turn, Shoshy! Give up and we’ll go easy on you!”

Shoshy Raphael stepped back, holding his ivory cane up as if to repel Mister Lucky, “Not so fast, Lucky! You forget that we have the power of Hell on our side! Baggy Satan, transport us back to our secret headquarters and destroy this machine! Farewell, Mister Lucky! We won’t meet again, because you’re going to die!”

Baggy Satan groaned and waved his hands, causing the Nantucket Dragon Group to vanish into thin air. Mister Lucky and Mister Frink braced themselves for the destruction of the explosion apparatus, but it simply fell apart.

“Well, that was a let-down,” said Mister Lucky.

“I believe they sought to have it explode. They should have given their demon more explicit instructions,” said Mister Frink.

“Well, then, I suppose today really is our lucky day!” said Mister Lucky, picking up a piece of the machine to examine.

“It will never be a lucky day so long as their evil roams the world,” said Mister Frink solemnly.

“Way to go, Captain Killjoy,” said Mister Lucky weakly.

“That’s not my name,” said Mister Frink haughtily, “You know my name.”

“Just… never mind,” said Mister Lucky, tossing the piece of machine to the ground and walking away, “I knew we should have just taken the day off.”

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MMM Event #86: Resolution

Posted by meekrat on July 16, 2010

[Mister Frink and Charleston Charge are aboard the gyrocopter. Mister Frink is pedaling and steering, while Charleston Charge stands and scans the horizon. He points towards a seemingly random point.]
Charleston Charge: There! I think that’s it!
Mister Frink: Marvelous.
[The gyrocopter changes course, heading towards the train. Ten minutes later, it lands on top of the engine and its occupants disembark. Immediately after doing so, the Manakeet emerges from between two cars, screeching. Mister Frink looks at the creature, aghast, while Charleston Charge sighs.]
Charleston Charge: I’m so sick of that thing.
[He rolls up his sleeves and walks towards the Manakeet, its cacophany ringing through the air. With one swift punch to the gut, the Manakeet starts breathing heavily and doubles over. Charleston Charge brings both hands down upon the creature’s head. This act alone is not enough to do much, but it hits its head on the train car and is knocked out. Charleston Charge throws the beast over his shoulder and tosses it into the engine, where a small plastic robot in an engineer’s hat is driving the train. It turns slowly towards Charleston Charge, tips his hat to him, and goes back to driving the train. Charleston Charge stares at the robot for several minutes, then tosses the Manakeet onto the floor. As he turns to leave, he remembers something, then takes off several of the Manakeet’s feathers. He climbs back on top of the train car where Mister Frink is waiting. He holds up the feathers.]
Charleston Charge: I win, I guess.
Mister Frink: Good show. Which car do you think the vagrant is in?
Charleston Charge: It’s a boxcar at the other end of the train. Let’s go.
[As the pair carefully walk towards the boxcar, they are unaware that below them, people can hear their footsteps. Two of these people nod to each other and head towards the gap between cars, and as Charleston Charge leaps across the gap, he is winged with an egg. He barely manages to grab hold of the guardrail, then he looks up to see Guy Magistro and Guerdon Trueblood standing above him.]
Guy Magistro: You’re not welcome here!
Guerdon Trueblood: You’d best let go, lest I make you, like the white man forced my people to let go of our land!
Charleston Charge: Yeah, yeah. You’re making a big mistake. Just let me up and you won’t get hurt.
Guy Magistro: You’re in no position to bargain!
Charleston Charge: You brought this upon yourself.
[At that, Mister Frink leaps from the top of the car and lands behind the two villains. With great strenght, he punches each in the back of their neck. Each fall, grasping their neck.]
Mister Frink: Tally-ho! Come now, Charge!
[Mister Frink hoists Charleston Charge up onto the platform.]
Shoshy Raphael: Oh dear. It’s you two. I swear, you’re almost as bad as Lucky.
Mister Frink: We haven’t come for a confrontation, Raphael! We simply seek our ally!
Shoshy Raphael: Whatever for?
[Charleston Charge looks at Mister Frink, whose face is locked in an angry scowl. Then he looks upon the calm countenance of Shoshy Raphael.]
Charleston Charge: We’re not really looking for him. I mean, we are, but we’re actually here to stop the Embodiments from killing each other and taking everyone with them.
[By this point, Guerdon Trueblood and Guy Magistro have gotten up and are getting ready to attack. Shoshy Raphael waves them away.]
Shoshy Raphael: Why, I do believe our goals are the same. Just yesterday my team and I attacked the Stupid.
Mister Frink: I knew you were daft, but that daft?
Shoshy Raphael: It was either us or him, and while no one died, Baggy Satan did transport us here. Imagine that, sending us to the one location you’d be sure to find us.
Charleston Charge: Yeah. Imagine that.
Shoshy Raphael: Come now. If I wanted you two dead, you’d be dead already. Come inside, Simon makes a surprisingly good cup of tea.
[Mister Frink and Charleston Charge look at each other.]
Charleston Charge: You know this guy better than I do. It’s your call.
Mister Frink: We might as well.
[The pair follow the trio of Nantucket Dragon Group members into the train car, passing the prone form of the Animajor along the way.]
Charleston Charge: You have him here, too?
Shoshy Raphael: Indeed! He almost gave his life to aid us. Sadly, he is now powerless.
Charleston Charge: I don’t see what’s so sad about it.
Shoshy Raphael: It simply is. Poor boy hasn’t stirred since then.
[Mister Frink checks the Animajor’s pulse, and opens his eye and shines a flashlight into it. He nods.]
Mister Frink: He’s faking it.
Shoshy Raphael: Really?
Mister Frink: Yes. I’m guessing he has a love of melodrama. Luckily for him, I happen to have the cure for what ails him right here.
[Mister Frink pulls out a syringe filled with an orangey-purple liquid. Shoshy Raphael steps between him and the Animajor.]
Shoshy Raphael: What is that?
Mister Frink: Element Frink!
Shoshy Raphael: I won’t let you inject the lad with some crazy magic potion.
Mister Frink: It’s not a crazy magic potion. It simply unlocks a person’s latent super-powers.
[One of the Animajor’s eyes open at this.]
Mister Frink: Now then, move aside!
Charleston Charge: I have to agree with Raphael. The Animajor thinks I’m his greatest enemy. I don’t think giving him super-powers would be a good idea.
Mister Frink: Nonsense! Move aside!
[With a wave of his arm, Mister Frink knocks Shoshy Raphael and Charleston Charge away. Before they can retailiate, Mister Frink has plunged the syringe into the Animajor’s arm. The liquid is drained from the syringe, and once it’s empty, Mister Frink puts it back into his pocket and places a bandage on the shot. Within second, the Animajor has “woken up”.]
The Animajor: Many thanks, Mister Frink. Might I inquire as to what powers I’ve been granted?
Mister Frink: I’ve no idea.
The Animajor: …what?
Mister Frink: It unlocks different powers in different people. I suppose I could run some tests on you when we return to Earth, but for now, it’s simply a matter of trial and error.
The Animajor: I guess it’ll have to do. As for you, Charge…
[Charleston Charge sighs and shifts to a fighting stance. The Animajor, however, simply puts his hands together and bows.]
The Animajor: I beg your forgiveness. I was drunk with power and under the influence of an evil being. I know not what path I shall take, but I do know that I no longer wish to be at odds with you and the Land Captain.
[Charleston Charge lowers his fists, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.]
Charleston Charge: I… you… er. You’re forgiven.
The Animajor: Many thanks!
[The Animajor leaves the car to join the Nantucket Dragon Group in the next car. Mister Frink, Shoshy Raphael, and Charleston Charge watch him leave.]
Charleston Charge: He talks differently now. Is that due to the serum?
Mister Frink: Could be. The effects are chaotic, to be sure.
Shoshy Raphael: Now then, back to business. You two and my team both want to avert this oncoming catastrophe between the Embodiments. Between us, I’m sure we can think of something. I propose a temporary truce and alliance.
Charleston Charge: I’m game.
Mister Frink: I suppose I am also game, for the greater good.
[The three shake hands, and go to make plans with the Animajor and Nantucket Dragon Group.]

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MMM Event #89: Purga the Demon-Thing VS Shoshy Raphael

Posted by meekrat on July 12, 2010

[The Stupid is still engulfed in flames, his once-yellow eyes now the shining death of exploding stars. He still retains some of the inky blackness that once defined him, but it is clear that this is simply smoke from the burning of the very air around him. Purga the Demon-Thing cautiously approaches, hands flat in front of him.]
Purga the Demon-Thing: I realize you’re busy, but in all the business of war, you’ve forgotten something.
The Stupid: I’ve forgotten nothing! Your event is to track down the Nantucket Dragon Group and kill them all!
[Purga the Demon-Thing smiles.]
Purga the Demon-Thing: Thank you. Do you have any idea where they are?
The Stupid: Baggy Satan might know. Go see him.
Purga the Demon-Thing: I have no idea where he is.
The Stupid: Imbecile! You can fly, can’t you?
Purga the Demon-Thing: It’s more of a gliding.
The Stupid: Then go to the roof and jump off of it. You’ll find them soon enough. If you don’t come back with their heads, then you’ll be the loser of this event!
[Purga the Demon-Thing nods, and exits towards the roof. Elsewhere, the Nantucket Dragon Group are on the train.]
Shoshy Raphael: Well, gentlemen, as much as it pains me to agree with the Impossible Mister Frink, we may have to pool our resources with theirs.
Guy Magistro: What of your plans?
Shoshy Raphael: It will be much easier to destroy the Stupid if he’s not so aggressive. Long term, Magistro. Long term. He’s much less organized when he’s not like this.
Amazing Rando: Where’s your proof?
Shoshy Raphael: He thinks he pulled us all from time, at our most menacing. Show of hands, how many of us are from 2010?
[All of the Nantucket Dragon Group raise their hands.]
Shoshy Raphael: See? I’ve no idea how that even happened, but it did. I can only imagine the dragon rings had something to do with it. In any case, I’d wager that the Stupid has sent Purga after us as his event. I’ll stand alone against him, if I need to, but I’d appreciate it if the rest of you could help me. Perhaps even our friends in the other room.
[Amazing Rando’s eyes grow wide.]
Amazing Rando: You mean the Animajor and — ?
Shoshy Raphael: I do indeed! It was Kismet that they we’ve met them, you know. We all know what Frink is capable of, and the Charge boy seemed competent enough. Granted, the Animajor hates him, but if we can work with Frink, they can put aside their differences.
Guy Magistro: The Animajor’s powers are… different.
Shoshy Raphael: He can still be useful. So can the two vagrants. If we play our cards right, then we can even get that beast on the roof to help us out. Indeed, if we can pull this off, then Purga the Demon-Thing won’t stand a ghost of a chance!

Learn more about the challengers:
Purga the Demon-Thing
Shoshy Raphael

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MMM Event #83: Resolution

Posted by meekrat on July 9, 2010


The Animajor: You don’t have to do this, you know.
Righteous Smidgen: I do, though. If it wasn’t for the Stupid, I’d be stuck on the Dinosaur Planet.
The Animajor: Still, you don’t know him like I know him. He’s… he’s not what he says he is. I see that now.
Righteous Smidgen: So he’s not a force for good?
[The door bursts open to reveal the Wiper.]
The Wiper: Jesus Christ! The Stupid’s about to execute Shoshy Raphael!
[The Animajor turns quickly.]
The Animajor: What?
The Wiper: You heard me!
The Animajor: We’ll continue this talk later, Smidgen. Just think it over, okay?
Righteous Smidgen: I will.
[The Animajor runs out of the room, leaving the Wiper alone with the Righteous Smidgen.]
Righteous Smidgen: Do you think I should go on this mission the Stupid has for me?
The Wiper: Sorry about this.
[The Wiper puts his hands on the Righteous Smidgen’s temples, and before the superhero can react, calming blue energy emanates from the Wiper’s fingertips.]
The Wiper: As far as you know, kid, the Stupid’s on the up-and-up. You’re gonna do what he says, to the bitter end. Really am sorry about this.
[The Wiper removes his hands and the Righteous Smidgen drops to the ground. The Wiper then steps out of the room and looks around, and removes his cowl and goggles. He places his fingertips on his own temples.]
The Wiper: Hope you appreciate this, Bootman.
[The blue energy emanates from the Wiper’s fingertips, causing a mild feedback loop that throws the Wiper against the wall. Moments later, he awakens and stands up, looking around.]
The Wiper: What the hell am I doing here? I better not be missing the fight. Bound to be a good one. I just hope Raphael can pull ahead. He doesn’t seem like a such a bad guy. A bit dumb, but not too bad.
[Meanwhile, in the Arena of the Stupid, Simon McCockindale engulfs himself in energy, speeding himself up to the point where he cannot be seen. Shoshy Raphael nervously looks around.]
Shoshy Raphael: You don’t have to do this, Simon! I know you’re a good man! Well, not a good man, per se, but you at least wouldn’t kill someone without good reason!
[Shoshy Raphael feels a fist ram into his face, and then Simon McCockindale reappears.]
Simon McCockindale: I do ‘ave a good reason. ‘E told me to.
[Simon McCockindale gestures to the Stupid, who hovers above the happenings, and then vanishes once again. Shoshy Raphael points his dragon ring at the ground and a ring of fire appears, but a gust of wind causes the fire to burn quickly and then die.]
Shoshy Raphael: Oh, damn. I suppose I’m in too far to try the half-wit card?
The Stupid: You were in too far during your first event. Now? You might as well be walking on the sun.
Shoshy Raphael: What does that even mean?
[ The Stupid doesn’t answer as Simon McCockindale appears briefly try to seize Shoshy Raphael’s dragon ring. Shoshy Raphael pulls his hand back and shoves it into his pocket, then takes two steps back. He pulls a telescopic cane out of his other pocket and uses his ring to engulf it in flames. He spins it around, randomly thrusting it at the air.]
The Stupid: Don’t forget, Raphael, you have to talk him out of it. If you knock him out, you lose!
Shoshy Raphael: I lose the event, but not my life. An even trade, I think.
The Stupid: That’s what you think.
Shoshy Raphael: You utter bastard. Oh well, I can handle this! Simon! Can you hear me?
[Another blow to the face is Simon McCockindale’s response. Shoshy Raphael puts his hand to his cheek, which is beginning to swell.]
Shoshy Raphael: Good, good! What does your monkey think about all of this?
[Monkey sits on the sidelines and shrugs.]
Shoshy Raphael: I shall have to get you to remember the good times! Like when we attempted to take over the world with the Charleston Death Ray! Remember that?
Simon McCockindale: No.
Shoshy Raphael: Well, it happened! You found me in a burning crater in Africa, remember that? We had matching rings, and became the best of friends, or at least very good acquaintances! We knew each other, at the very least, and you swore you’d never kill me because an evil entity told you to!
Simon McCockindale: I did?
Shoshy Raphael: Yes! Yes, you did!
The Stupid: He’s lying! Finish him!
Shoshy Raphael: Come now, are you going to listen to someone who has called himself things like the Dean of Deceit and the Prince of Lies, or someone who claims to be an old friend?
Simon McCockindale: Were we really pals?
Shoshy Raphael: Oh yes!
Simon McCockindale: Well… I guess I can’t be killin’ a friend.
[The Stupid’s influence is removed, and Simon McCockindale is back to his old self.]
Simon McCockindale: Well, then… when is the event goin’ to start?
The Stupid: You’ve bested my challenge, so technically you win the match. Let’s give Purga a by next round, shall we?
Shoshy Raphael: I should have expected —
[The Animajor dashes in and slides to a stop in front of Shoshy Raphael.]
The Animajor: What are you doing?
Shoshy Raphael: About to be killed, it looks like.
The Animajor: Not you! Him!
The Stupid: You dare question your master, the source of your powers?
The Animajor: Yes! You’ve probably been lying to me this whole time, as well as lying to the Righteous Smidgen!
Shoshy Raphael: He’s here?
The Stupid: Quiet! Both of you!
The Animajor: NO! I’m through being quiet, through being your pet! I’m taking Shoshy and the Smidgen and getting out of here!
The Stupid: Not without powers, you aren’t!
[The Animajor drops to his knees, body ablaze with escaping energy. Suddenly, the energy stops, and slowly attempts to work its way back into the Animajor’s body. Simon McCockindale is pointing his ring at the young man, grimacing.]
The Stupid: Et tu, Simon?
Simon McCockindale: I know I’m a pick-pocket and gentleman thief, but you ain’t never killed your own men before. This don’t seem right, beggin’ your pardon.
The Stupid: Pardon not granted! You’ll die, next!
Amazing Rando: I think not! Nothing up my sleeve, but… a-ha!
[Amazing Rando runs down the steps and leaps over the wall and onto the Arena floor. With a flourish, he starts shooting water at the Stupid.]
The Stupid: No! I won’t allow this!
Guy Magistro: You will allow what we demand!
The Stupid: Oh, COME ON!
[Guy Magistro starts chucking eggs at the Stupid, each bursting with magicks. He raises himself on a pillar of earth in order to aim better.]
Guerdon Trueblood: I may hate all of you, but the Nantucket Dragon Group will stand together once again!
[Guerdon Trueblood removes his longbow from its quiver and uses his dragon ring to increase the momentum of each arrow. They hit the Stupid, but do absolutely no damage.]
Shoshy Raphael: Well, boys! I think it’s time we summon an old friend! Fire!
Guy Magistro: Earth!
Guerdon Trueblood: Air!
Amazing Rando: Water!
Simon McCockindale: Energy!
[Baggy Satan disappears from his seat in the stands and appears above the Nantucket Dragon Group. He looks at them, face filled with anger. This also had the adverse effect of stopping Simon McCockindale’s efforts to stop the Stupid from siphoning away the Animajor’s powers. The young man falls to the ground. Monkey drags him to the side of the Arena.]
Baggy Satan: What the bloody ‘ell are you blokes doing? I don’t be wanting no part of this!
Shoshy Raphael: Use your demon powers to smite the Stupid!
Baggy Satan: Have you gone mental? He’s evil! Anyt’ing I try and do to him won’t do nothing!
Shoshy Raphael: I see! In that case, we must away! And don’t tell him where you send us!
Baggy Satan: You’re daft!
Shoshy Raphael: Stop complaining and just do it!
[Baggy Satan sighs and, with a flick of his demonic wrist, teleports the five members of the Nantucket Dragon Group away, along with the Animajor and Monkey.]
The Stupid: Are you going to stand against me, too, Baggy Satan?
Baggy Satan: I may be daft, but I ain’t bloody mental.
The Stupid: Hold on, what the hell am I going to do for the next round?
Baggy Satan: You’ll think o’ somet’ing, right enough.
The Stupid: It’s still aggravating.
[Meanwhile, half a world away, the Nantucket Dragon Group appear on Motley Shakespeare’s train.]
Shoshy Raphael: Well! That was fun!
Simon McCockindale: What should we do with this bloke?
Shoshy Raphael: Oh. Poor boy. There should be a sleeping car somewhere around here. Put him there. I’m sure he’ll feel better after a rest.
Amazing Rando: What’s our next move?
Shoshy Raphael: Isn’t it obvious? If we defeat the Embodiment of Evil, we shall take his place! All that our hearts desire will be ours for the taking! Gentlemen, we shall destroy the Stupid!

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MMM Event #12: Resolution

Posted by meekrat on April 19, 2010

Mike Q: All right, you *******, you ready for some **** curling?
Guy Magistro: No. I hate this game.
Jihad Man: I shall triumph for the greater glory of Allah!
Guy Magistro: Go right ahead, you jackanape. I swear to you, I shall not give it my all.
[Guy Magistro kicks the curling stone, and begins swearing. Jihad Man turns and nods, and pushes the curling stone down the curling sheet.]
Mike Q: How the **** long do we have to do this ******* thing?
The Stupid: There’s many rounds. So many rounds!
Mike Q: Are you ******* serious?
Guy Magistro: I quit. I hate this stupid game so much!
Mike Q: You win, Jihad Man. Congratu-*******-lations.
Jihad Man: Ha! [Jihad Man explodes, leaving a crater and destroying the curling sheet, and appears unscathed in the center of the crater.]
Guy Magistro: Thank the spirits. [throws down an egg and disappears]

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MMM Event #12: Guy Magistro VS Jihad Man

Posted by meekrat on March 11, 2010

The Stupid: Now that kidnapping and using Howard Cosell is out of my system, I call forth my next two champions!
Guy Magistro: [appears in a puff of smoke and lightning] I am here, my liege.
Jihad Man: [walks into the Coliseum] Infidel.
Guy Magistro: [places a hand over his basket of magic colored eggs] What was that, Jihad Man?
Jihad Man: You are powerful like the djinn, effendi, but even the most powerful djinn does not hold the oil lamp to Allah‘s destructive power. Behold! [opens up his tunic to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest]
Guy Magistro: Are you mad?! You’ve wrapped yourself in gunpowder! You‘ll blow both of us to kingdom come! [throws down a white egg to create a force barrier around himself]
Jihad Man: Alahlahlahlah!
[Jihad Man ignites the bomb, blowing a small crater into the earth. Once the smoke clears, Jihad Man is seen standing in the crater, completely unharmed and with another bomb already strapped to his chest.]
Guy Magistro: By all that is holy!
Jihad Man: Such is the power of Allah.
Guy Magistro: The heretic lives, but not for long!
The Stupid: Boooooring. As much as I love watching you two prostrate like a pair of flamboyant peacocks, I think I’ve thought of a much more entertaining way to exploit your talents and decide which of you is the better sorcerer. Behold! [pulls a tarp from an ice rink] Only the greatest of magicians can succeed at… curling!
[Both Jihad Man and Guy Magistro groan]
Guy Magistro: I hate this stupid game.

Learn more about the characters:
Guy Magistro
Jihad Man

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