Previous Post “A Little Learning…….” Check out the first part of the story Bad Sports before reading this. Note: This story takes place before CrazySugarBoy’s press conference at the end of Untold Tales #343. The Gulacy Street Station was the end of the line; the last stop for the Paradopolis Green Line Trolley before it was re-directed and sent back into the city. During peak hours a hundred commuters may have entered or exited its cars, but now, as it neared midnight, the platform was deserted and only handful of figures got off the train. One stopped and sat on the nearest bench, untucking a newspaper from under his arm to read. He coughed three times. Alcheman heard the signal and pressed the tattoos on his bicep to convert from his gaseous form to flesh and blood. He moved to sit on the seat opposite his contact, “Mister Smith,” he acknowledged. “Look at this drivel,” Rocky Crittendon, publisher of ‘The Beacon Online’, held up his copy of The Daily Trombone. The back page showed a picture of a somewhat puffy looking man with a blonde pompadour menacingly wielding a pair of sledgehammers. Spark Sparks Outrage! was the headline, “Do Jerkson and his lickspittles really think this is news?” Michael Wooster considered the question, “With the recent ruling in Judge Connor’s court, it appears the issue of civil rights for artificial intelligence is again on the front burner. The decision to devote even a paragraph to the ramblings of a past his prime professional wrestler desperate for the spotlight is rather indefensible.” “Heheheheheh. You think?” Rocky shook his head, “The truth is, if those wags did even the slightest bit of research, they’d find a real story.” After a long pause in the conversation where it became clear the Chemical Crimefighter would not inquire as to what that story was his companion obliged him, “Dick Spark used to tag team in the PNWWA with ‘Ramblin’” George Svetlik. Svetlik ran a wrestling academy out of Oenida, New York. One of his most famous students? Mason Stone.” Alcheman blinked, “Not-“ “Yup, the Mason Stone. Doctor Wee Writchards’s best friend and the pilot of the rocket ship that passed through a cosmic storm that gave him and the Frost kids their powers. And I don’t have to tell you how Writchards and the robo sapiens are connected. He fracking created them!” “Allegedly,” Michael amended. “Assuredly. It was all part of the OMIKE Project started during the Ford Administration. But it grew too big for even Them to control.” Alcheman was starting to feel a bit leery of setting up a meeting with this fellow, despite the earlier information he had provided the hero, “And so then Mister Spark is connected to the robo sapien movement as….. a straw man? Is that your contention?” “Yep.” “I see,” Michael sighed and stared out into the dark for a moment, “Isn’t it far more likely that he’s just using this anti-synthetic life rhetoric to garner mainstream attention?” “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it, given the source. He is a ‘heel,’ after all. But that’s what makes Spark perfect for the role. Who would suspect a pro wrestler to be in on a conspiracy to undermine the opponents of the Sentient Rights movement?” “This is true.” Rocky smiled triumphantly, “Patterns, Alcheman. The entire Parodyverse is built on patterns. They want you to believe that everything is determined by chance, or fate, or pure dumb luck. But that’s bunkum. For something so big and complicated to operate the way it does, there has to be a reason. The Reason For Everything.” “And that is?” the Elemental Adventurer asked. “Heh, you’re not ready for that lesson yet, Grasshopper. Let’s focus instead on another reason, the reason you called me here: The Alumniati.” “Yes,” Michael nodded, happy to be able to steer the conversation to more solid foundations, “The lead you gave me about the assassination attempt on District Attorney Phoang was correct, though the perpetrators were not in fact agents of Magenta St. Evil.” “Nope. Instead it was a bunch of men dressed up like college mascots calling themselves the Alumniati. Damn, this is huge! For them to break cover like this, it must mean a major paradigm shift in the organization’s agenda.” Alcheman had had early misgivings about contacting the publisher of The Beacon online news service, and his use of the phrase ‘paradigm shift’ only served to exacerbate them. Still, like any hero should he soldiered on, “Who are they?” A knowing smile crossed Rocky’s face, “Who runs America, Alcheman?” “Our country is governed by a set of principles put forward in the Constiution, and upheld by a republican democracy elected by a majority of the voting public,” the former high school Civics teacher replied, “So the correct answer is no one does.” “Heheheheheheheh. WRONGGGG! Care to try again?” There was a pause, then, “America is run by…. A cabal of the elite members of our society’s institutions; in politics, in industry, in media?” “Getting warmer!” Rocky was all but rubbing his hands with glee. “And… they wear costumes that… serve to conceal their identities while paying homage to their almae matres?” “Bzzt! I’m sorry, that last answer is incorrect. Thanks for playing. Please accept this wonderful parting gift for your efforts.” “I assure you, Mister Smith, I am not playing. And neither were the Alumniati. Innocent people could have died as a result of their actions today,” Michael’s eyes narrowed behind his domino mask. “Sorry. Its just you made the mistake of assuming the obvious. There is a secret Shadow Cabinet that runs America. Its membership reads like a Who’s Who of our country’s rich and powerful: Aldrich Grey, Sydney St. Sylvan, Obadiah Blott, and Bill ORLLY are all confirmed members of this…. Hidden Hegemony. And there are many more besides.” Alcheman’s brow furrowed imperceptibly at the mention of his almost father-in-law, but remained silent. Rocky Crittendon did not. “These are the people you so called superheroes should be fighting, not the proxies they created to distract you from society’s real problems. Now: how the Alumniati fit in to this. They’re the party crashers, the guys not quite ready to join the big leagues. So they set up a council of 68 members, each one representing their old university by dressing as its mascot, with bases of operation all over the country. Their plan: to bring down the old New World Order and supplant it with themselves.” Michael could not resist sighing, “And you have proof of this?” “I’ve amassed eleven file cabinets of information on the Hidden Hegemony.” “That’s a lot of data.” “It’s a big conspiracy. There’s evidence going back three hundred and fifty years as to how long and how broadly it has operated in this country. Hell, its operated since before we’ve been a country.” “When did you start gathering this information, Mister Smith?” the Molecular Marvel asked. “I inherited the job from my uncle, so it’s safe to say all my life.” Alcheman nodded, “And what do you plan on doing with it?” Rocky turned solemn, “Not much. It’s just too big. We’re talking about a group powerful enough to stage phony alien invasions every third Sunday just to keep the populace scared and you heroes distracted. The Hidden Hegemony have killed presidents, generals, Supreme Court Justices, celebrities, even costumes like you so the truth won’t come out.” “But if they have done all that, do you not think there should be an accounting?” “Pfft. Why? What happens next? The Hidden Hegemony may be ruthless, power-mad monsters, but what replaces them if they fall? Either we get another group of less competent power mad monsters like the Alumniati or, even worse, we get the complete and utter collapse of society’s institutions. In other words, Chaos,” Rocky snorted ruefully, “Interesting who the new leader of the Lair Legion is, isn’t it Alcheman?” “Mr. Smith, I thank you for your time, was the Chemical Crimefighter’s reply. He pressed the symbol for oxygen his periodic table tattoo and vanished into the night air. ***** Elsewhere: “You think he bought it?” the uniformed agent sitting in front of the monitor showing the exchange captured by hidden camera asked his partner. “Please. Even if the subject has demonstrated a healthy distrust of authority figures in the past, there’s no way he’s swallowing Crittendon’s line. Which is the point,” he fellow technician replied as controlled the remote drone to follow the conspiracy theorist back to his parked (and rented under an assumed name) car. A voice spoke, “Mentioning Blott did provoke an interesting reaction from the subject, though.” The duo turned to look at their superior, “Orders?” Ilsa Rage, Agent of SPAM, stood ramrod straight with her hands clasped behind her back, and gave her commands, “Footnote Alcheman’s file that he may have a connection to Blott, then begin a cross check on all data to see if there are any leads on what that connection might be,” she tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Then, have the term ‘Hidden Hegemony’ mentioned in 668 reader replies at the usual sites: MNN.com, The Huffington Report, Trombone Online, Chirper, etc.” “Rabid reader replies?” one tech asked hopefully. He found creating inarticulate online jeremiads quite liberating, given his occupation. “Of course. And just for fun, get our plant in Cross Face Quarterly to report that its suspected “Natural Boy” Dick Spark uses transmutative nanomachines to enhance his performance wrestling in the Robot Rumble.” “Is that true?” the other agent wondered. “That’s for me to know,” Miss Information smirked and adjusted her eyepatch, “and them to find out.” ***** Someplace else: Handsome Dan nodded in approval as he watched the agents of the Special Protocols Against Metahumans carry out their orders from the Alumniati’s holoscreen, “Splendid. Everything is going according to plan.” “Then we can launch the next phase of Operation Homecoming?” the horse chestnut helmed conspirator known only as Mister Brutus asked from his chair at the Table of Four. “Yes,” the figure in the bulldog costume turned off the feed and opened the file in front of him that was labeled the same, “Soon, the entire world will learn of the Alumniati. And with that knowledge will come true fear.” Next: “…… is a Dangerous Thing”

And here I thought I made so much of my stories up as I go along.... it's good to know that there's a deeper pattern to be seen to the parodyverse as a whole...

A fun chapter in the best style of the X-Files and crazy conspiracists everywhere. I was impressed with the way it tied into current events as well, and I look forward to learning just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Good stuff!