The Moderator Saga Part Eleven: The Moderator Strikes Back!


“At last! A real challenge comes to the fore!” the leader of the New Lair Legion exhorted to his team, “Now we will prove ourselves as the rightful masters of the planet!”

“Prove to who?” the Scarlet Lawnmower asked.

/Whom/ Sig, the Spectacular Simulacrum twisted his nipple knobs to etch the corrected grammar across his blank face.

“I think Moderator is referring to the Hooded Hood,” Search Engineer guessed, “You really have to stop obsessing over that preening schmoe, boss. ”

Link agreed, “It’s getting creepy. And after all the attention I’ve been getting from that swaybacked butler, I know creepy.”

/We should be sending Flapjack to the Negativity Zone, to spare Miss Link from his advances./

“I don’t need you to protect me, Sigmund!” the young woman shot back with surprising pique.

“Uh-oh: trouble in paradise,” Lawnmower snickered, the cloud of psychic blades that orbited him shuddering in reflex.

The Moderator slammed a gloved fist onto the meeting table, “Stop! This insipid quibbling may have been a standard of the ‘Old’ Lair Legion, but that is not us. We are the next step in superhero evolution, and will comport ourselves as such."

“OK, so what do you want us to do?” Link asked quietly.

“You and Sig are to brief the support staff about the updates to Plan 42. I also want you to press Mouse about the status of AL 36-24-36. It should have been operational by now, see why she’s dragging her feet,” the Moderator told Link before turning to the Scarlet Lawnmower, “Now that we’ve outed CalmSereneFlunkyBoy! as a Space Fandom to the press that allows us the cover necessary to go after his family. Take a SPAM detail and arrest Meg Hastings , Blake, and especially that Apple woman.”

The red-headed Legionnaire smiled, “Going to draw that putz out of hiding?”

“Oh, I know where he is. Search Engineer, remember?” the villain tapped his cap, “Moderator and me are on our way to visit him now. “

“Indeed, after we pick up an old friend of Foxglove’s so they may get…. reacquainted.”


*****


The derelict Seedytown building CSFB! and Killer Shrike used to meet in was in poor structural shape, a condition made much worse when The Moderator willed away its support beams and planks. Three stories of dry wall, linoleum, wrought iron stairs, and copper plumbing came crashing down on both men’s heads before they could react.

With a wave of his hand he dispersed the clouds of dust that roiled out from the implosion. He wanted the cameras to have a clear view of this; the end of the first serious challenge to his rule.

There was the sound of sheet rock cracking as a glowing figure of green and yellow pulled himself out, “Moderator!” the former Champion of Chaos said through gritted teeth, “So you’ve finally come out your hole!?”

“It is the sworn duty of the Lair Legion to confront evil everywhere it appears, Space Fandom. I will not allow you to infect my city with your madness.”

CSFB!’s reply came in the form of two handfuls of combat candy, pulled and hurled from the negative space in his Black Hole Backpack.

The Moderator deleted the incoming projectiles, and then the backpack. He tried to delete his enemy’s suit of Impossibilityium as well, but not surprisingly failed.

The Day-Glo Dervish launched thick coils of Silly String at Moderator. These held him just for a moment before they too were willed away, but that gave Dream the chance to pounce onto the man in the face mask and fedora and slam him to the ground.

“I’m going to string you up like a black and purple Piñata and let every kid in the neighborhood take a whack at you, Moddy,” CSFB! vowed as he unspooled his Wowie-Zowie Yo Yo and twisted it into a hangman’s noose.

“You think?” The Moderator asked, and even if his features were hidden behind his cowl, it was clear he was unimpressed.

There was a rush of air from behind Dream, and suddenly he felt someone’s presence. Before he could turn a powerful hand clamped down on his head and yanked him bodily off The Moderator. With the speed of a whip crack CSFB was brought down forcefully into the pavement. Again and again and again. All in under a second.

Dream was hauled up and his head swiveled to face his attacker. He was a big man in black leather and latex. His own cowl was unzipped so CSFB could see his iron blue eyes and arrogant sneer.

“Dominator!” was all Dream was able to say before the Strong as Tempered Steel Sadist hammered him in the mid-section with a shot to the solar plexus. Once he crumpled to the ground he was hit again, this time by the tip of Dominator’s thigh high boot. CSFB skidded several blocks before stopping.

“Orders?” Dominator asked as he helped the leader of the New Lair Legion to his feet.

“I liked his Piñata analogy from earlier,” Moderator picked up his fedora and tried to fix the brim, “Bust the twerp open and see what comes out.”

“And I’ll get to spend some time consoling that wonderfully well-padded ex-wife of his,” the Perverted Powerhouse stated, licking his fingers before slapping his own backside, “Mmmmm.”

With a leap the Dominator headed after the target, one he expected would bring him much pleasure.

Moderator ordered the camera men to follow the melee, then joined Search Engineer who was using his brakeman’s switch to pry his way through the rubble, intent of uncovering… something.

“Take a look at this,” he told his master, “It must be why CSFB was here in the first place.”

Laying unconscious under the remains of the building’s third floor bathroom, pinned between a clawfoot tub and several yards of metal pipe, was a big man in an armored bird suit and a top-knot.

“Killer Shrike?” The Moderator asked incredulously, “He’s working against me?”

“Yup. It appears the conspiracy may be bigger than we thought.”

“A shame,” Moderator willed away the wreckage that pinned Shrike, then disappeared his costume for good measure. His next gesture was to the waiting SPAM Control agents, who moved in and put the Butcher Bird in newer, more familiar restraints.

“Whu- whu’s goin’ on?” Simon Maddicks mumbled as he was shoved into his straight jacket. Then he saw who captured him, “Oh, @#$!”

The Moderator nodded, “A very accurate assessment, Shrike. Very accurate.”


To Be Continued!