Tales of the Parodyverse >> View Post
Post By
Dancer.
In Reply To
killer shrike

Subj: Yay! *claps*
Posted: Sun May 18, 2008 at 07:09:35 am EDT
Reply Subj: Saving the Future: “From Dross into Gold”
Posted: Sun Apr 27, 2008 at 03:55:31 pm EDT


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Saving the Future: “From Dross into Gold”

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> It was the dream he was having more and more often; the one where he was pinned down by unseen grapplers so strong and so adept he could not move nor barely even breathe, as his face was being pressed down into the earth and all he could hear was the slow, ominous banging of an immense bass drum, causing everything to tremble with every ill=omened reverberation….
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> “Wake up! Michael, wake up!” someone with a familiar voice commanded before pinching his ear lobe.
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> A second person offered a less violent alternative to rouse their target, “Put one of his hands in a bowl of warm water. That’ll do the trick.”
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> “Not quite the trick we’re looking for, sister. Michael, if you don’t wake up and make yourself presentable I will take your picture and forward it to the Daily Trombone’s Society Page.”
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> “She’ll do it too,” the owner of the second voice glumly recalled the time her sister sent them a candid shot of her falling into the gutter outside of Club Aotearoa, “Oh look! His eye is twitching!”
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> The petite young woman grinned and rapped her knuckles on Michael’s skull, “Rise and shine, Alcheman! The city needs you!”
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> “Don’t call me Alcheman,” Michael Wooster grunted into his pillow before slowly turning over to blearily glare at his uninvited guests, “Jenni. Trudi. What are you doing here?!”
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*****

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> “So that’s the story, Michael,” Trudi summed up, “the Lair Legion have vanished, and their island along with them. That evil, blowzy Beth Zemo has introduced a Nu Lair Legion that is filled with members with even worse names than ‘Manga Shoggoth’, and all the villains locked up in the Safe have been freed by some crazy person. Frankly, I shouldn’t have to be telling you this. You’ve always been the one who was so keen on current events.”
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> “I have been feeling a bit under the weather as of late,” Michael explained. He was still in his bedclothes and making no effort to rise from his four poster bed, facts Jenni made note of.
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> “Why aren’t you getting up? There are costumed maniacs running all over the city, and no one’s around to stop them. ”
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> Michael Wooster shook his head, “I don’t do that anymore.”
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> “Why not? Because Constance won’t let?”
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> “Constance is…. unaware of my past activities.”
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> “Well, good,” Trudi went over to the dresser and began fishing out clean undergarments for her brother, “then you won’t have to worry about her nagging you when she sees Alcheman knocking heads on the evening news. Hey, where’s her stuff?”
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> Trudi going throughhis unmentionables was enough of a stimulus to finally get Michael to sit up, albeit slowly, “Would you please stop? Respect my privacy.”
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> “Oh, Michael, there’s nothing in here I haven’t seen before.”
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> Jenni, too, had turned her attention to where they had been led to wake her brother, “This is a boy’s room. Constance doesn’t stay here at all, does she?”
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> “She has her own room in the mansion’s other wing.”
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> Both sisters stared at their brother, “What? You mean you don’t—“
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> “What we do is none of your concern,” Michael flopped back onto the mattress and covered his eyes with his hand, “Now if you would please leave. Stilton will show you out.”
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> “Michael, you’re engaged!” Trudi said, clearly stupefied, “and you’re telling us the two of you don’t even share a bed?”
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> “None of your concern!” Michael repeated for emphasis.
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> Jenni kept on, “Constance always did strike me as a bit old fashioned.”
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> “There’s old fashioned, sister, and then there’s being a cold fish. Even the Amish allowed for bundling, for goodness sake.”
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> “I would rather you didn’t insult my fiancée, Trudi,” the young man said plainly.
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> “Sorry, Michael.”
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> “Apology accepted. Now please go. I’ll call you later. I promise.”
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> Jenni bounded over to the bed, “There might not be any later. The entire city is one big danger zone. You need to get up and do something.”
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> Michael, his eyes still shielded, did not respond.
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> Jenni’s face took on a very determined cast as she slipped off her heels. She climbed up onto the bed and began jumping, “Get up get up get up get up get up get up—“
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> “Jenni! Oof!” Michael was pitched from the mattress by his sister’s calisthenics.
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> “Ha! Ow!” Jenni’s triumph was soured when she banged her head on the bed’s canopy and she herself tumbled to the floor.
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> “Will you two stop playing around?” Trudi said over her shoulder. She bent down to inspect the bureau’s bottom drawer and found a wrapped parcel, “Here we are,” she said tearing it open to reveal a set of Lycra shirt and pants.
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> Michael stood up and snatched the clothing away from his sister, “You need to leave.”
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> “I think I bit my lip,” Jenni moaned from her spot on the carpet.
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> “Enough of this garbage, Michael: I know things didn’t go well for you the last time out as Alcheman, but you need to get over it,” Trudi said severely.
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> “It all worked right well enough for me. You saved me from being brainwashed by HERPES and the Society of Sinister Oriental Stereotypes,” Jenni noted as she attempted to pull her lip up to where she could better inspect it.
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> “There were others involved too, Jenni. The Joy Corps, the Scourge of the Parodyverse, Honoria…”
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> Trudi interrupted her brother’s lament, “Yes, yes: things didn’t turn out picture perfect. Tough. Neither did my guest shot on “Two and a Half Robo Sapiens but you didn’t see me crying about it.”
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> “If we had, you can bet I would have sent the shots to the Trombone,” Jenni muttered to herself.
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> Trudi caught her brother by the cheeks and pulled down so he would look at her, “The point is, there are too many people who need you for you to be allowed to hide here away from all your responsibilities. You’ve become a kept man, Michael.”
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> Wooster’s face became even more flush, “I have not.”
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> “A gilded cage by any other name still has… um, soiled newspapers for lining,” Trudi misquoted spectacularly. Still, her point had been made.
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> Michael looked at the package containing his costume and sighed, “Excuse me, sisters. I need to change.”
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*****

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> One of the first Paradopolis sights the newly liberated villains visited was the city’s Diamond District. And it wasn’t photographs they were interested in taking.
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> “Ouch. That had to hurt,” Taser Tresses quipped as she shocked the last security guard into unconsciousness. Her partner, a whip lean man in a snakeskin body suit, rushed around the jewelry store and began filling bags with its wares.
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> “I saw a safe in the back. You think you can open it?” Mach Five Mamba asked.
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> The Woman with the Electric Prehensile Hair shook her head, “ Go get Bash Master. He’s been itching to do something more than just be lookout.”
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> The speedster zoomed out the door to comply, “Hey, BM! We got a nut for you to crack-whoa! WHOOAAAH!!”
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> Mamba’s first exclamation came at seeing Bash Master lying in the street unconscious. The bruiser’s mace hand had been flattened. The second call of surprise was the result of running into a patch of frictionless graphite, which sent him crashing into an overturned car. The impact made sure it was the last thing Mach Five Mamba said for a while.
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> “What the blazes is going on out here?” Taser Tresses stepped outside in time to see the fine flakes rise up and swirl into a human form.
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> “I suggest you surrender,” the man in the sleeveless blue tunic and domino mask said.
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> “Get bent!” the villainess answered. Her cascading, crackling locks whipped forward.
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> By instinct Alcheman pressed several of the tattoos than ringed his bicep in the form of the Periodic Table and quickly his flesh and blood was replaced by vulcanized rubber. Tresses’ attack arced harmlessly off him. He then bounded forward and planted his feet right in her face. After she fell, Michael used her long hair to tie up the other two villains and then went to check on the guards.
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> “Call the police,” he told them when they finally came to, “They will send someone to help. I can’t stay. There are others who need me.”
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> Michael touched the ink etched squares on his arm and assumed the properties of water vapor. He rose up over the buildings to look for those people, and for the first time in a while felt like he was doing the right thing.
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> Footnotes for the Forgetful or Uninitiated:
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> Hero Name: Alcheman
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> Birth name: Michael Jonathan Wooster
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> Nickname: Alliterative types have dubbed him the Chemical Crimefighter and the Alchemical Adventurer
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> Childhood home: Pierce Heights, Paradopolis, USA
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> Age: 27
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> Education: Degrees in Secondary Education and Political Science, University of Paradopolis
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> Current occupation: Eager but inexperienced superhero, Former Civics teacher at Hogan Academy
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> Superpowers: By touching the periodic tables tattooed onto his biceps Alcheman can take on the properties of a variety of elements and compounds. He is also able to determine the amount of energy is in the mimicked material, allowing him to choose what physical state it is in or whether or not the substance’s potential energy can be released.
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> Appearance: height – 6’ 0” weight 195 lbs. hair light brown, cut short and straight, eyes hazel. No disfigurements, besides tattoos.
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> Clothing: Tends to dress conservatively (i.e. preppy). Costume is a sleeveless navy blue tunic and blue leggings. Black fingerless gloves, boots, and domino mask. Belt is brass with an “alchemal symbol” for a buckle.
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> Personality: Tends to be courteous, forthright, and diligent. A bit verbose when speaking, but with a gentle sense of humor.
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> Abilities and advantages: Meticulous eye for detailed planning and conscientiousness towards achieving his goals
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> Weaknesses: Inability to react swiftly to a crisis. Easily buffaloed by strong-willed women.
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> Current residence: Obsidian, the massive fortress/slash mansion owned by billionaire arms dealer Obadiah Blott (as a guest of to whom Michael is betrothed, Blott’s daughter Constance)
> Former Residence: Small townhouse in gentrified section of Seedytown, Paradopolis
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> Relatives: The Woosters have lived in the twin cities of Paradopolis and Gothametropolis for nearly two hundred years, their fortune actually starting with Michael’s great-great grandfather who opened a small dry goods store in Gothametropolis York. His descendants moved to the newer, more thriving Paradopolis in the mid nineteenth century. Over time their stores evolved into a multi-national department store chain, and while the family no longer runs the business empire, they do own 27 percent of the company’s stock. The last Wooster to actually work for the corporation was Michael’s father Malcolm, who was the CEO until being killed in a stunt involving hot air balloons and a rocket powered motorcycle. His living relatives include his mother, Agnes Wooster and his younger (fraternal) twin sisters, Jenni and Trudi. Michael does get along well with his family, despite the fact that they have next to no understanding of what makes each other tick, since Michael rejected (and was subsequently disowned by) the Wooster clan when he was 17.
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> Dangling plotlines: As the story states, Alcheman was in the middle of an adventure the last time we saw him. That, and several other subplots (Penny Blood, COPE, Mister Bar Sinister, etc) have been tabled for now. Michael doesn’t want to talk about them and I don’t want to write them. I may go back and touch on some of these things later (or even redo his origin) if I feel ambitious enough.
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