She brought the Evil: Nega-oculars to her eyes and spied on him once more. The alien watched a plastic bag dance in the wind for several seconds. It reminded Dr. Menace of a rowboat being tossed by the anger of a stormy sea. The bag latched on to Nihel’s leg. He regarded it with an inquisitive smile, bent over slightly to get a better look, but didn’t seem to have the slightest inclination of removing it.
“What a strange dichotomy,” she whispered to herself. “Perhapz,” she told herself. “Yez, perhapz a face to face meeting iz what iz needed. He seemz harmlezz enough, not that it matterz. I could eazily wrap myzelf in a Negaflux shield, or better yet, if I can get him back to my lab, capture him in a Negaflux field if he stepz out of line. There would be no ezcape.” She thought a moment longer. “In fact, such a tactic may prove quite uzeful in any caze. He no doubt holdz the anzwers to many scientific quandriez and would conzider a lifetime imprizoned on thiz rock too horrible not to releaze more than a few of them.”
__________
Nuklear Man soared over his beloved city of Metroville. From his aerial view, the cityscape was pockmarked with as-of-yet repaired craters for which he personally was directly or indirectly responsible. He swelled with pride. “Ah, memories,” his voice was a song of accomplishment.
But his stroll down memory lane came to a crashing halt as the Golden Guardian’s Nuklear Senses detected trouble afoot. “Ah-ha,” he self-narrated. “I do believe I have found the very source of our fair city’s problem.”
Below him, the five aliens wreaked havoc. “Well, that’s one problem solved,” he told himself as he rocketed past without slowing down. “Wonder what’s on the ol’ Danger: TV now. I’ve been out for, I don’t know, minutes.”
He leaned into a U-turn and cut a golden parabola through the morning sky when an errant blast of electricity splashed against his face. “Ouch!” he yelled and stumbled to a mid-air stop. “Who did that?!” he demanded of the heavens. He gave a particular cloud a nasty look. “It was you, wasn’t it. You can’t fool me. You’re in cahoots with Sparky, aren’t you! That’s just like you sky-father god archetypes, gangin’ up on me like that. You should be ashamed. But, more to the point, you should be evaporated. As such,” he said, gathering up energy in his hands. “PLAZMAAA—”Another electrical blast zapped him, this time in the back. He spun around to face the increasingly scarred city, “—BEAM!” and a beam of fussion-ish energy added yet another scar.
__________
Safriel yelped in surprise and dropped the car she had planned to hurl through an office building. A new smoking crater smoked itself mere inches from where she stood. “Hey, watch where you’re shootin’, Gadriel!” she scolded. “You nearly took my tush off with that last one. Do you have any idea how long it took Lord Nihel to get it just right?”
Gadriel turned to her, though it was difficult to tell that he had done so since his body was currently living electricity in a vaguely humanoid shape. “What’re you talking about?” he asked with sparks of annoyance flying from his white-hot body. “I’ve been shooting out windows with my Electroblasts.”
“You’ve got some pretty lousy aim, champ,” she retorted while pointing to the smoking crater that lay between them.
“Oh yeah?” Gadriel got right in her face, “You wanna see just how bad my aim is?”
“I already have. Besides, you can hit me all day long. I can just Protonically alter my molecular make up to harmlessly conduct electricity.”
“Cease!” Variel thundered with his unvoice.
“Look, you made him yell,” Safriel said.
“She started it!” Gadriel defended.
Variel gave each of them long stares. Of course, the slightest glance of those blank silver non-eyes would probably be too much for most souls to withstand for long, so the actual duration of these stares is quite subjective. “Cease this petty argument. Recommence your duties.”
“I don’t see why we have to do all the dirty work,” Gadriel complained.
The immense black whole of Variel rumbled with a nongrowl. “My will is second only to Lord Nihel’s. You will no more question me than you would he. Complete your given task!”
“Arel’s pretty powerful,” Safriel said. “He probably doesn’t come out for small stuff like this. Bring in the big guns over there.” She pointed to Dakael and Kadael.
Gadriel looked at the diminutive Dakael. “Well, the big gun at any rate.”
Dakael quaked and a half dozen copies of himself bamfed into existence around him. “We’ll show you big guns,” they said in unison while each one made a different rude gesture, many of which were completely unknown to the citizens of Earth.
“Kadael!” Variel nonbarked. “Control your counterpart.”
The mountainous Kadael reached down to several of the clones. They disappeared once he touched them and the giant seemed to expand slightly as a result. Dakael dispersed the others until only his original self remained.
“As for you, Safriel,” Variel began . He was cut short, however.
“Ha-ho!” Nuklear Man crashed in on them. When the dust cleared, he was knee deep in Metroville asphalt. “Oh, shucks.” He stepped out of his tiny crater. “That happens every time I land. I swear, someone shoulda built this planet out of sterner stuff because I could probably tear it to tiny little bits and then blast those bits into smaller bits which would then be subject to further blasts, thus pulverizing these already small bits into progressively smaller and smaller bits until…”
The five were awe-struck. They gathered around him, suffocatingly close, their movements slow, reverent. Even Variel’s cold eyes seemed to hold a sparkle of emotion, something between worship and love.
The Hero was too busy prattling to notice, “…and then Vishnu would be all like ‘Desist your universe tromping ways,’ and then I’d be all, ‘You think you’re all that, but you are not all that,’ and then—”
“Arel,” Variel unwhispered.
“—I’d grab that multi-armed freak—”
His name shall be Arel, the true name of fire.
His power will know not limits
For the flame is unpredictable;
A god without destiny written
Will be the father’s sword against Fate eternal.
“Er,” Nuklear Man shook his head and wobbled for a second. “Whoa, that was trippy. Woo!” He put one hand on Kadael’s huge shoulder to support himself. “Hey!” the Hero pointed at Kadael’s outfit, specifically the Nuklear N displayed on the chest. “I’ve got one of those. Hey, all of you have one. Well, except for you, Gruesome,” he said, pointing to Variel. The mammoth mass of blackness moved slightly and Nuklear Man could barely make out the N on his chest as an area slightly less black than the rest. “Ah, well there we are. You guys must be fans, huh?”
They looked at one another with quizzical glances.
“Yeah,” Nuklear Man said, releasing Kadael’s shoulder. “I can’t blame ya, personally. I am pretty cool, ya know.”
“Arel,” Variel said again.
“Hey, who’s this Arel guy everyone keeps talkin’ about?” the Hero asked. “He sounds neato.”
__________
“Ima,” Nameless Technician whispered through the Watchtower’s Scientific: Communications Panel.
“You don’t have to whisper, Nameless,” she answered.
“It can’t hurt. I’m with the team.”
“What! I told you to get a team down there so that you could stay at Überdyne and be safe. You’re not expendable.”
“Just following your example, Doctor. What’s a little personal risk in the face of possible enlightenment?”
“I don’t approve, but there’s nothing I can do about it from up here. Report.”
“Nuklear Man is talking with the aliens.”
“How’s he reacting?”
“Fine. Almost, I don’t know. Friendly. But there’s something you should see. I'll patch you in to our video surveillance.” He pushed a few buttons and ano
ther screen on the Scientific: Communications Panel lit up. It was live feed showing Nuklear Man surrounded by the five aliens as they conversed. It seemed to Ima that Nuklear Man was doing an unusual amount of listening.
“They look so, so human,” she said to herself. “Well, other than the one with silver eyes.” She squint her own. “He’s a bit hard to make out, exactly. Anyway, what am I looking for here, specifically?”
“You’ll see. Wait until the girl moves out of the way.”
And then by shifting her weight, she did.
“They each wear the N,” Ima said aloud.
__________
Dr. Menace stood in the middle of one intersection while watching her subject stroll along the filthy street that led directly to her. Her finger wasn’t more than a twitch away from the Negaflux Shield’s activation button.
He looked her straight in the eyes the whole time he approached her. His gaze was dreadful, not from any impending malice, but rather the sense of import he carried. His eyes spoke of the beauty of destruction, yet also whispered of the horror of life. And with one last step, he was before her. Not too far and not too close. He spoke, “Greetings Earthim woman,” his voice was a perfect compliment to the eyes.
And somehow, she knew that they were more similar than not. “And to you, ah, excuze me, but I haven’t a clue how to addrezz you.”
“Yes,” he almost laughed. “I would seem to have you at a bit of a disadvantage. I am known as Nihel,” he said with a hand against his chest and a slight bow.
“Greetingz, Nihel. You may call me Dr. Menace.”
“Certainly.”
“If I may inquire, what bringz you to our world?”
He tilted his head to one side as she spoke. “You have a most curious accent, Dr. Menace.”
“I am from Romania,” she said.
“Ah, Romania. In your Earthim year 1859, with the support of the ‘French,’ Cuza was elected to the thrones of Moldavia and Wallachia, creating a national state which would later take the name ‘Romania’ in your 1862 I believe.”
Dr. Menace was taken aback.
“It would seem I have some explaining to do,” he said in answer to her surprise.
“Indeed. But not here. Perhapz back at my lab?”
“An Earthim scientific establishment? It should prove interesting.”
“It iz not far from here.”
It was his turn to give a quizzical look. “We know that you Earthim have strange customs, but to build your institutions of scientific experimentation in these conditions?”
And it was her turn to almost laugh. “Yez, well. You could say that my conditionz are a bit unique.”
“Do tell.”
“You may find thiz quite a surprize, but I am conzidered to be something of a villain by my society.”
“Ah,” he nod and looked at the sky. It was mostly blue save for a shock of thick clouds three or more layers deep by the horizon. “I get that as well.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?’
She slid her arm to interlock with his, “Yez.”
__________
10:26 a.m., Eastern Standard Time.
“So what you’re telling me,” Nuklear Man said. “Is that the N on your chests don’t stand for Nuklear Man, but for Nihel.”
“Yes,” they answered in weary unison.
“I see.” Nuklear Man paced back and forth. He was afforded little space in which to move thanks to the circle of alien villains around him.
“Finally,” Dakael mumbled. Variel leaned in his direction which was more than enough to silence him.
“In that case,” the Hero proclaimed, pointing to the heavens, cape billowing. “This Nihel character is in direct violation of our copyright laws which, I might add, frown heavily on this sort of blatant plagiarism! I could sue.”
Each of the five groaned.
“I could, you know. I know this lawyer, Count Insidious. He’s got a cape and everything. He’s so good he put me in jail for crimes against humanity that I didn’t even get the chance to commit, or so I’m told, which is a shame ‘cause they sounded pretty fun. Heh, yer in for it now. He’s ruthless. I hope you can swim, ‘cause yer goin’ up the creek without a paddle!”
The five were silent.
“Hm. How about, I hope you’ve got exact change because you’re about to go on a bus ride?”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Safriel snapped.
“Silence!” Variel nonthundered.
“Stuff it, Var. You can preach about Nihel’s righteousness until you’re, well, less black in the face, but Arel here is obviously out of his mind.”
Nuklear Man blinked. “Y’sure you don’t mean Carl?”
“Please forgive her insolence, Lord Arel,” Variel said while bowed on one knee. His piercing silver stare shot to Safriel, “She is young and impetuous. She knows not what madness she speaks.”
“Well, that makes two of us, I can tell you that,” Nuklear Man said.
“There does seem to be something amiss with his Lordship,” Gadriel meekly offered. “Perhaps he is suffering from some malady, temporary of course, from which we must liberate him.”
“So who is this Arel guy anyway?” Nuklear Man asked. “And do you shmoes have last names or what? I’m certain that’s the kind of pertinent detail my lawyer will want so I can sue each of you.”
Dakael stepped forward. “It’s almost as if the Arel whom we know and fear has been subsumed by this, this,” he searched for just the right word.
“This living incarnation of the endless drivel produced by this planet,” his partner Kadael finished. “Not that we mean any disrespect, of course.”
Variel shook his head, his eyes nearly communicating dismay before glimmering with their usual unblinking quality.
“Oh, hey!” Nuklear Man said, his face alighted with joyous realization. “Have you guys seen five villain types tearing up the city? They’re supposed to be around here somewhere. I think. My mind tends to wander when ol’ Doc Genius is talking, if ya knows what I means. Winkity-wink.”
“This is embarrassing to witness,” Safriel groaned.
“Wait a second.” The Hero’s Nuklear Quick Brain kicked it into high gear. “You guys are here, you’re committing copyright violation, and there’s five of you, give or take.”
“Here it comes,” Safriel announced with mock enthusiasm.
“You guys are the villains!”
“Lord Arel,” Variel said. “You must remember your Fate.”
His name shall be Arel, the true name of fire.
“Hey,” Nuklear Man protested. “Get your crazy voices out of my head, there’s enough of those up there already.”
What has been written will be burned in his flames. What will come to pass shall be no more.
“I mean it, stop or it’s smashin’ time.”
Fate, unmade and rewoven, a new tapestry by the design of gods who have thrown off their shackles.
“Last call.”
In the flames there will be purity. There will be rebirth. And from the ashes, there will be a choice where none existed before.
“That did it. PLAZMAAA BEAM!!!”
__________
Issue 51 – A Long Time Ago, on the Other Side of the Galaxy…
Mighty Metallic Magno Man, Shiro the Tetsu Samurai, and Angus the Iron Scotsman exited the Metroville Museum of Natural History and walked down the wide stairs that led from it to the street. Norman’s wide strides skipped every other step as Angus and Shiro’s legs pumped so fiercely that they were blurs of motion just to keep up with him.
“Slow down, ye daft metal-skinned ox!” Angus barked between gasps for air.
The Tungsten Titan came to a stop whereupon Angus ran into one of Norman’s legs as Shiro did same to the other. Both fell one stair back onto their armored arses.
“Norman-san is the success at being heavy with size. Like dragon of falling mountain unto who is me,” Shiro observed while readjusting his Tetsu: Samurai H
elm. Its demon-visage mask wasn’t deployed. That was used purely for business purposes.
“Tell me about it,” Angus grumbled. The Surly Scot did a double take at the narration with a very audible ker-boink sound. “Ah’ve goot ta lay off the whisakey. That laddie’s startin’ to make sense!”
“Hey, sorry guys,” Norman said. He turned around to help them up by offering a pointer finger to each.
“Hai. Of favors are large with you,” Shiro thanked.
Angus’s armor rattled as he shook with rage.
“Just kidding,” Norman said in a laugh. Each of his hands enveloped one of their little arms and hoisted them up simultaneously. “There.”
They continued down the stairs, this time at a pace more befitting the shorter heroes present.
“Well,” Angus said, slapping his Iron Gauntleted hands together with a metallic clank sound. “What’d everybody think o’ the exhibit?”
Shiro opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it. His eyes darted left and right to look for the perfect answer. “Angus-san is of having, um, interesting.”
“Aye, ye damned tootin’ it was interestin’. How about ye, Norman?”
“Er,” Norman donned a pair of superfly cool shades even though it was barely eleven o’clock in the morning. “I don’t know quite what to say.”
“Aye,” Angus resounded with his first true smile of the story. “It has that effect, ye know. It’s majestic. It’s profound. It’s—”
“It’s a bunch of wax statues of guys wearing plaid skirts,” Norman finished.
“Thems be kilts, laddie,” Angus said with a calm monotone that, when combined with the twitching of his right eye, was more terrifying than his usual furious roaring.
Norman shrugged. “Still looked like skirts to me.”
Angus quaked and sputtered. “They be the mark o’ bravery, the garb of a true warrior, ye soon-to-be pummeled oaf!”
They reached the sidewalk and Metroville’s late morning foot-traffic swarmed around them, probably in search of early lunches. “Yeah,” Norman said. “You’d have to be pretty brave to run around in women’s clothing.”
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