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J. Jonah Jerkson

Member Since: Fri Nov 19, 2004
Posts: 140
Subj: The Baroness, Part 69
Posted: Sun Dec 11, 2016 at 09:36:15 pm EST (Viewed 620 times)



The Baroness, Part 69
Carrying On


The castle shimmered away as the blazing summoned meteorite flamed down towards it.

The castle reappeared in exactly the same spot.

The meteor crashed down on it in a huge ball of fiery destruction.
[UT #356 part 1]


Fifteen seconds later, at the bottom of a 30 foot deep crater:

Baron Ottokar Zemo struggled to his knees in a pool of liquefied, steaming soil and rock. He and the appearance of his clothing were unscathed by the titanic force and scorching heat of the colliding meteor, but the shock wave was sufficient to stagger even the unalive.

“Elizabeth? Elizabeth!” he shouted weakly. No reply. He looked around. Every square centimeter of Schloss Schreckhausen and its grounds had been obliterated, but the ensuing crater stopped precisely at the property line. Most of the surrounding Pierce Heights mansions seemed untouched, although the Heckfire Club three blocks away had all of its windows blown out.

“Cosmic officeholder or not,” his voice grated, “we will have our revenge.”

High in a parabolic trajectory over Dullard’s Corner:

The view from high over the west side of Parodiopolis was magnificent this fine, sunny morning. Elizabeth Zemo could not appreciate it. Nor could she appreciate the genius and careful German engineering that her great-uncle, Baron Heinrich Zemo, had applied to the creation of the Zemo Personal Force Field. The field had automatically activated with the warning klaxons and it held up against the incalculable force of the small asteroid’s impact, with at most minor wavering. Unfortunately, although Baron Heinrich had created a perfectly elastic field that repelled all energy, he had not found a means to negate Newton’s laws of motion, so Beth Zemo squirted out between the impacting rock and the immobile granite of the dungeons like a pumpkin seed squeezed between two powerful fingers.

Her initial trajectory missed the Jerkson residence by two centimeters, but she arrowed straight into the belfry of the Fokker manse. Deflected slightly by the impact, the semi-conscious Baroness then caromed into the stone pillars of the Heckfire Club; somehow, the shock shattered every window and piece of glass on the property.

Glancing sideways, the human projectile angled past the Wooster mansion, giving the indomitable Agnes one of the few real frights of her last 60 years. Impacting the plinth of the statue of Mayor Pierson’s Porter at the traffic circle, the addled ex-empress of Earth shot skyward in the general direction of Dullard’s Corner.

Parodiopolis International Airport caught the involuntary projectile on radar and issued an alert to the Department of Homeland Security that a second asteroid appeared to be attacking Dullard’s Corner. As emergency responders and the only two OPS agents on duty hastened to Dullard’s Corner, Elizabeth Zemo returned to earth at terminal velocity, 120 miles per hour, and smashed into the mud of a condo back yard.

Approximately 10 minutes later the emergency services arrived, clad in full body hazmat suits and accompanied by two OPS agents in suits. Seeing nothing amiss except for the fact that the neighboring condo had sunk partly into the subsoil at a list of about 15 degrees, they conferred and organized a surveillance of the back yard. Tentatively, they approached the figure, buried head down all the way to her ankles, and covered with a shimmering electronic field.

“Alien?” asked a medical tech.

“Nah, looks like a typical supervillain’s force field,” concluded the senior OPS agent. “Charlie, keep your stun gun aimed at it just in case and we’ll let the emergency services dig her out.”

The ambulance attendants were debating how to diagnose and secure their unconscious but inpenetrably shielded patient for the ride to the hospital when as a sudden bolt of electricity zapped into their midst. The bolt resolved into a shimmering female figure. Moments later, the figure coalesced into the body of a slim young woman, dressed in a black unitard with electric blue piping, matching her own electric blue hair.

“Let me see her for a second,” she urged the med techs.

“What a moment, who the hell are you, and what are you doing here!” Charlie interjected. He shifted his aim to the intruder.

“I’m Her Excellency, Baroness Elizabeth Zemo’s, personal assistant. Catherine Simmons. Though I guess you should call me Cathode.”

“You’re new,” the senior OPS agent, Malik Gordon, observed. “We have no record of you. Stand aside and do not interfere with this government investigation.”

Cathode zapped into lightning form and reappeared next to the prone Baroness, and reached toward her belt. With a few sparks, the force field deactivated. While she strolled back to the OPS agents, the med techs gawked and then scrambled to take her vitals.
“How did you know she was here?” began Agent Gordon.

“She instructed me not to tell anyone how her tech works,” Cathode replied in a deferential voice.

“Do we take her in?” Charlie asked.

“Nope, we stay with the arch-villainess,“ Malik replied. “But you , Missy, have a date with me at OPS headquarters downtown at 10:00 am tomorrow. Agent Gordon, Room 3406, Fifth Avenue and 55th Street. Just down the street from Tromp Tower.”

Three weeks earlier, in Elizabeth Zemo’s underground laboratory no. 2 at Schloss Schreckhausen:

“Finally, Grandfather Baron Otto is out of the house. Even that prude Agnes Wooster has her uses. It’s time to end my minion shortage once and for all.”

Velcro Vixen was unconcerned. Candidates had come and candidates had gone (mostly via the sewage system) and Elizabeth Zemo was still paying Vickie Vee’s extortionate retainer and generous per diems. “Uh-huh,” she drawled. “Why do you need him out of the castle? I thought he had a talent for enslavement.”

“For his own purposes, yes,” snarled Elizabeth. “My assistants serve me alone.”

“So who is the vict – er, candidate this time?”

“Catherine Simmons. Just graduated Parodiopolis Tech, interning at ITC. No local relatives, no close friends, no personality. An electronics nerd who even the engineers at Tech didn’t notice. “

“And you’re going to make her elastic like Silicone Sally?”

“No, this time it’s a different approach, based on my grand-uncle’s correspondence with Dr. Loveray. After I reprogram her mind in the Variable Isolator [TM], there, you will transfer her to the Elemental Resequencer[R], where she will become an electric elemental. With luck, she’ll have control over electricity as well as being electricity. Then a quick trip through the Zemo Transformulator [Pat. Pending] to take off 30 pounds and fix that hairstyle, and I’ll have my new personal assistant.”

Velcro Vixen yawned. “And then I sluice her down the floor drain over there, right?”

“Better not this time, Vickie. You might get the shock of your life.”

Velcro Vixen strutted over to a nearby chair and sat down, sipping the Cosmopolitan waiting on the adjoining table. “Call me when it’s time to pull the red lever,” she drawled. Anything else, like shifting cadavers between transparent tubes, costs time and a half, four hour minimum, you know.”

The seventh iteration, however, proved to be the charm, and Elizabeth Zemo finally created her new assistant. Cathode, or “Cath” as she soon was nicknamed, was somewhat malevolence deprived, like her colleague Ramona, but was doggedly loyal and infuriatingly literal-minded, as we shall see.

Playing the parts of Baroness Elizabeth Zemo and her new assistant Cath,

J. JONAH JERKSON
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J. JONAH JERKSON Voice of the People
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