LNH: Hungry, Hungry Sabertooths! #26: "The Twain Shall Meet"

HUNGRY, HUNGRY SABERTOOTHS!
#26: "The Twain Shall Meet"
A tale of two houses, alike in villainy, by Drew Nilium

====

--and the East Coast Brotherhood of Net.Villains returned to reality.

"Status report!" said Anti-Christ Lad, gripping Mister Homage's skull and
wincing. As a being who was tied to the subjective-time realm of Net.Hell, Anti-
Christ Lad could sense the temporal disjunction; specifically, he sensed it as
a splitting headache.

This mission had been a headache the whole way thru. They hadn't been able to
find Mistake, they had to leave Eraserhead behind, and even getting into
Net.ropolis was going to require a completely untested new invention of Doctor
Killfile's. Marvel Zombie Lad was brooding, Romantic Innuendo was stroking a
photo of Catalyst Lass and singing a song about how she was going to murder
her, and he had had to keep DNSDaemon from killing Deathspork over some petty
nonsense, *again*. And now this!

But it didn't matter. Once they destroyed the West Coast Brotherhood and his
nauseous temporal twin, they could deliver the killing blow to the virus-
ravaged LNH, and then who could stop them? Dvandom Force!? Maybe!! But they
hadn't come out with a new issue in over twenty years so it didn't seem
likely!!!

"Are... you all right, fearless leader?" said Polybag Person.

"Never better," said Anti-Christ Lad thru a grimace, grabbing Mister Homage's
'Net.Villain Leadership Conference '94' mug and taking a harsh swig of black
coffee. "Doctor Killfile, I believe it's your turn on stage."

Doctor Killfile's hands moved rapidly over the control panels of the EastJet.
"Configuration sequence: set." She put her hand on an enormous lever. "Sequence
begins in three, two, one."

She *slammed* the lever down hard, and the entire EastJet shuddered as it
swooped lazily towards the ground, the nose of the jet opening up, the wings
sweeping back, winds battering its structure.

"Configuration..." Doctor Killfile whispered, as she watched the ground loom
up. "COMPLETE!"

THOOM! They hit the ground and somehow, impossibly, kept going, burrowing deep
beneath the surface.

"EastDrill configuration online." Doctor Killfile folded her hands, glasses
glinting in satisfaction.

Anti-Christ Lad eased Mister Homage's white knuckles off the armrests. "Well...
well done," he said. "Come up in Drayer Park in twenty minutes."

"We can make it in ten," said Doctor Killfile.

"Yes, but it's going to take that long to get these clowns ready to actually
fight."

Doctor Killfile let out a dry chuckle. "Right. Twenty minutes."

"Polybag Person, make sure each of them has their orders. I'll be suiting up."

"Whatever you say, boss." Polybag Person paused. "...hey, when you said
'clowns', you didn't mean me, right?"

Anti-Christ Lad sighed.

====

Anti-Christ Lad slumbered.

Spectres reached out to caress his face, nightmarish whorls of light and shadow
begging for his favor. A voice calling, promising, promising so much, for these
trials to be over, that he could rest, if only, if only he gave it all up...

A thought of giving in becomes a slide, making him slip endlessly down, down,
down thru an abyss where glass broke endlessly to a discordant dirge...

Anti-Christ Lad woke up as the alarm klaxons blared, disoriented-- a small
room, just off-- yes, just off the big underground room with the portal in it,
this was the West Coast Brotherhood's base, in 2020, not 1970, not the year
where he would have to make a choice between giving in to evil or being
destroyed...

He shook his head, drank the rest of the water bottle next to his cot, slipped
his boots on, reapplied his face paint, and put on a fresh mask, to ward off
the sabertooth virus. He put his horned helmet on and went out to join his
compatriots.

They were standing in two rows of three. OTP and Crossplay King gave him
friendly waves. Gracemora's gaze swept over him, analyzed him as a potential
target, and moved on. Captain Coredump gave a surly nod, and Revamp Lass looked
like she'd love to get her hands on him in an extremely Wrong way.

And Plotchopper... it was odd, he seemed so normal as net.villains went, and
yet somehow, Anti-Christ Lad felt that if he looked at him from the wrong
angle, he'd see the abyss from his dreams...

He shook his head again, trying to dismiss the dark fantasies, and stood at the
head of the lines. The mystic sigils around the asterisk.gate glowed, and it
opened to a vision of bright sunshine - Net.ropolis.

Why had Anti-Christ Lad come here, to this den of villainy, full of all the
things he'd been running from?

Because he had to do it. He had to face the other Anti-Christ Lad, for good or
for ill - a destiny that could not be countermanded, as Time Itself had shown
him. And this way, he would at least be going openly into battle; this way, he
wouldn't have the chance to put this off any longer, he would be forced to meet
that destiny head-on.

Anti-Christ Lad marched thru the portal, and his compatriots followed, to
destiny...

====

Drew "more momentum!! wooooo~" Nilium