[continued from previous message]

contemplating the complexities of the cosmos.

But there were a few loose ends which remained to be taken care of,
loose ends which had gone unnoticed in the all-consuming chaos of the
Dorf battle. In particular, there was the woman who'd called herself
Tasha Vance, though this was likely not her name. Irony Man had an
inkling of who she was.

But there was no sign of her at the party. She stepped out of the
LNHQ for a moment to clear her head, heading for the gardens. Sure
enough, the one she sought was waiting there under the moonlight.

"I spend the entire night looking for you," said Irony Man, "and
you're right here."

"There's a word for that," said Tasha Vance. "Is there anything you
want to talk about?"

"I was wondering what you were doing here," she said, "The deeper
LNH sub-basements are not easy to reach, even for a Martyr of
Hawksmoor."

"I am an architect," said Tasha. "It's my job to pay attention to
these things. Disruptions in the patterns of the city."

Irony Man looked at the tree. "It's been said that there are two
types of writers -- architects and gardeners. An architect standing in a garden... as you said, there's a word for that. But I don't think you
are either. I think you are... a composter, perhaps."

"Hmm?"

"Your business card," she said, pulling it out of one of her other-
space pockets. "You handed this to the false Toony Stork when you were exploring the underground. No one had a chance to examine it with all
that was coming to pass. Your name is Tasha Celeste Irene Vance. TCIV.
Time Crapper IV. Net.heroes and net.villains have a way of hiding in
plain sight."

"But I am neither." The air rippled and swirled around her,
revealing her true form as a red-haired, cloaked woman. "I am a seeker
after knowledge."

"But you came from the seed of one of the greatest heroes of who
ever lived. You are a Vector."

"But the Vector program was the source of some of the greatest
villains who ever lived. And I *was* a Vector. I am something else now."

"Then what did you actually want? Knowledge, I assume, but of what?
Why did you have to come here in person?"

The Time Crapper frowned, looking up into the sky. The owlbear's
scroll appeared in her hand. "Captain LNH never had a chance to know
herself. She died before she could even know what her name meant. I will
not do the same. That is why I came here."

"She knew she what she believed in. Will any of the others follow in
her path?"

"There is one. But her time has not yet come."

Irony Man nodded. "In many ways we are seeking the same things. I
wonder, will we meet next as friends or as foes?"

"It's hard to say." She smiled wryly. "After all, not long in your
future, we are married." And then she was gone, leaving Irony Man alone
in the moonlit garden.

--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--

Wendle Johnston, the original Anal-Retentive Archive Kid, sauntered through the party. Despite being one of the more scholarly, nerdy
members of the LNH, he was far more comfortable at social events than Masterplan Lad.

But it seemed like his counterpart was a bit less comfortable. Anal- Retentive Archive Kid II was sitting alone, face enveloped in deep
thought.

Even though he hadn't been the one to hire the orc [Legion of
Net.Heroes Volume 2 #48 -- Footnote Girl, filling up on hors d'oeuvres
and pie], the other Kid was a... friend? A trusted teammate? A valued
part of his increasingly complicated and anger-driven life around this
place?

Anyway, he was something or other, and Wendle felt a responsibility.
He pulled up a chair. "Hey, man. What's up?"

ARAK II looked up. "Who published the newspaper?"

"...come again?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, caught in a bit of a loop... apparently, Cynical Lass's team was told about a newspaper clipping that reported on Captain LNH's death. It ended up leading them to the Dorfs' weakness.
But if all of the memories of that battle were erased..." He bit his lip lightly, fangs hanging out. "I keep going around on it."

ARAK I frowned. The thing is, he knew it must be a plot hook of some
kind -- but he couldn't tell ARAK II that; he didn't know he was
fictional yet, and Wendle worried that the kid was a bit... well, a bit fragile. But...

"The thing is, even with the most complete data-gathering and the
best analysis methods in the world -- sometimes, we just don't know.
Sometimes, there are mysteries we just can't crack. And that's good."

ARAK II raised-- well, he didn't actually have eyebrow hair, but he
gave ARAK I that kind of look. "Good?"

"Sure. Because it reminds us that, even with all our advanced
science, even with knowledge passed down from our forefathers, even with
going out there and meeting cosmic entities that are part of the
structure of the universe itself -- we don't know everything. We have
more to explore, and..." Wendle struggled a bit. He wasn't great at off- the-cuff philosophizing... "...and we are not yet complete. You know?"

ARAK II looked a bit dubious, but said, "I think so."

ARAK I nodded. "Good. Now, that doesn't mean we shouldn't
investigate anyway. Show me what you've got..."

--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--

Deep in the cavernous core of Topphorti is the planet turned inside-
out; a sphere of shining planes, all-seeing monitors forming a
panopticon known as the Dread Judgment Booth. There sat tyrant Flipseid,
and before Flipseid, the monitors bore witness to Dorfish attack and
Dorfish defeat. In the bright silence, he spoke.

"The life of one of my immortal servants has been snuffed. The
least, to be certain -- but the least of the Net.Gods should ever lie
beyond the reach of mortals."

Flipseid waved a hand, and as with his merest whim, the monitors
complied. The ship that General Jarrek had commanded was leaving the
solar system, on its way back to Dorf space. "The Dorfs are a powerful
element to maintain the balance of terror in this galaxy. Now that
balance is threatened, once again, by the Looniearth -- by the Legion."

He rose, clasping his hands behind his back, silhouette stark
against the glare of information. He spoke.

"Know that I watch this puny sphere because of the secret -- the
Anti.File Equation hidden among human minds! Is this, then, the power
which I seek? The power to unbalance, to take the first, identifying
byte and corrupt it, throwing out all meaning?"

And the grooved vinyl skin bent, teeth of white bone shining in an exquisite smile. "Good."

"Thus shall the power be greater once it lies in my grasp. Thus
shall it change the universe to reflect my countenance. Thus shall the
victory of Flipseid be ever more complete, and thus shall it ring among
the stars forever!"

"The music of the spheres is an empty babble, a chorus of
meaningless lyrics over the thumping beat of empty hedonism." He turned
and sat, and watched. And smiled. "And that beat is, and ever will be, Flipseid."

--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--

And off in the corner, pouring spiked punch for a toast, sat Namer
Boy and You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad.

"To Ubiquitous Boy Lad Jr.!" Namer Boy clinked glasses and downed
his drink.

"To Ubiquitous Boy Lad Jr.," said YNHMHELad, tapping his glass to
Namer Boy's. "Off fighting to help the people who hated him." He swished
the punch around and sipped it thoughtfully.

Namer Boy poured himself another glass. "You seem troubled," he
said. "I mean, by stuff other than an alien invasion and a friend
possibly leaving Earth forever and angsty emotional revelations."

YNHMHELad snorted. "Yeah, I don't know. It's like..." He picked up a Spanish peanut and flicked it across the room. "I'm not going all Dorf-
rage anymore, but I still think about all the problems in the world, and
I feel like we could be doing more."

Namer Boy leaned back, gathering his thoughts out of the beginnings
of a nice alcoholic haze. "The thing is, the problems here are
reflections of the problems out there - in the world of the Writers.
Sure, we can fix some of them with punching, and others with super-
science, but as long as they're out there, they'll show up here. One way
or another." He sipped his drink.

YNHMHELad frowned. "Well that's pretty depressing -- being at the
whimsy of a world you can't touch."

Namer Boy shook his head. "Nah, see. This is the part that most
people don't get -- we *can* touch them."

YNHMHELad raised an eyebrow. "Is this like the Mechanical Author
again?"

"No, no. It's like..." He took a deep breath. "The problems you were talking about -- war, poverty, inequality and pain -- they aren't
natural disasters or acts of God. They were caused by people, the
thoughts and feelings in the minds of people, and the only way to really
fix the problems is to change the minds. To make people happier and
stronger and more inspired. And what can do that?" He tapped his chest
and the stylized calligraphy letter N there. "Art. Words. A story." He
looked up, into YNHMHELad's eyes. "We're helping by being here -- by
being heroes."

YNHMHELad let out a breath. "Wow." He tilted his chair back. "That's
good. I'll have to think about that."

Namer Boy shrugged, smiling. "I'm good at putting a name on things."

YNHMHELad chuckled. "Not like your dad."

Namer Boy shook his head, laughing. "Nah. But..." He looked over at Horrible Name Lad. "It seems he inspired someone, too..."

--LNH-- --LNH-- --LNH--

Toony Stork had been sitting on the edge of the room, watching the
party go on without him. This was the first time in a long time he'd
been to a party without throwing himself into the middle of it. This was
also the first time in quite a while he'd been into the LNHQ. These
things were not unrelated.

He'd always feared -- or maybe hoped -- that without his guiding
influence things would have fallen apart and the LNH would welcome him
back with open arms to sort them out. But in fact, the LNH was still
going on, in defiance of all common sense, just like it always did. And
he didn't have any desire to get back in the game. Maybe someday the
writers would start feeling nostalgic and he'd feel the urge to put the
armor back on, but for now, he felt it was a part of his life that was
over now, for better or for worse.

Toony was quietly sipping on his Mr. Paprika XXX-Treme 20th
Anniversary Edition ("Now that's a cyborg's pop!") when he noticed
someone sitting on the table beside him. It was List Lad. He almost spat
out his drink. "Hi," he said, slipping as quickly as he could into his
phony cheerful smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you sent a
message saying you wouldn't come."

"Well, first of all, that's irony, right? I thought you'd understand that."

"Right."

"Second, I figured I didn’t actually have anything better to do. I
mean, I could go stew in my own self-loathing, but I do that every
night."

"...me too."

"Third, I felt like I might feel better if I spent some time around
people who are actually enjoying themselves."

"Huh, maybe you're right." He took a good look at the room around
him for the first time. "Look at those kids." Over at the other table,
Painful Pun Person was talking to Poignant Death Lass, telling her a
joke. The table exploded. "They have no idea how complicated any of this
is, do they?"

"Well, first of all, we might as well let them enjoy things while
they can. Second, you'd be surprised. You remember what it was like
starting out?"

"Well, I do now."

"At least these days we can keep the timeline straight... mostly."

"You know what? Maybe this all was worth it after all. Life goes on.
Even if we're not part of it anymore, they're all here because of us."
He raised his glass. "To the future."

List Lad clinked it. "To the future!"

|--------------*----------------THE END--------------*--------------|
| STARRING CREATED BY |
| Taco Salad Cheesecake ............................. Arthur Spitzer |
| Pulls-Paper-Out-of-Hats Lad ....................... Arthur Spitzer |
| Ubiquitous Boy Lad Jr. ............................ Arthur Spitzer |
| Namer Boy ......................................... Arthur Spitzer |
| You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad ............. Arthur Spitzer |
| WikiBoy .............................................. Tom Russell |
| Master Blaster .................. Robert Ramirez and Martin Phipps |
| Kid Enthusiastic ................................... Andrew Perron |
| Doctor Stomper ....................................... T.M. Neeck |
| Masterplan Lad .................................... Adrian McClure |
| Kyoko Ishikawa ....................................... Ken Schmidt |
| Poignant Death Lass ............... Arthur Spitzer and Scott Eiler |
| Horrible Name Lad ................. Arthur Spitzer and Scott Eiler |
| Cynical Lass .......................................... Rob Rogers |
| Irony Man I/Toony Stork ............................... Doug Moran |
| Painful Pun Person ................................ Adrian McClure |
| General Jarrek .................................... Adrian McClure |
| Marshall LaRocque ................ John LaRocque and Martin Phipps |
| Flipseid ........................................ Dave Van Domelen |
| Seyfert ............................................ Andrew Perron |
| Irony Man II ....................................... Andrew Perron |
| Anal-Retentive Archive Kid II ...................... Saxon Brenton |
| Slickshiver ........................................ Andrew Perron |
| Fearless Leader ................................. Dave Van Domelen |
| Doug Moran ............................................ Doug Moran |
| Reg Hfffgrktt ......................................... Rob Rogers |
| Captain LNH ........................................ Andrew Perron |
| GUEST STARRING CREATED BY |
| Footnote Girl ...................................... Saxon Brenton |
| The Dorfs ......................................... John C. Daiker |
| List Lad ................................. Todd "Scavenger" Kogutt |
| OMAR/The Prophet ................................... Saxon Brenton |
| The Moas .............................................. Rob Rogers |
| Occultism Kid I/The August One .................. August Paul Yang |
| Mood Arrow ........................................ Arthur Spitzer |
| Cannon Fodder ............................ Raymond "wReam" Bingham |
| Bandwagon Chick ........................................ Sue Clark |
| The Owlbear ....................................... Adrian McClure |
| Tasha Vance/Time Crapper IV ........................ Saxon Brenton |
| Bad Judgment Boy .................................. Arthur Spitzer |
| AppMaster ............................................. Rob Rogers |
| Unixepoch .......................................... Andrew Perron |
| Comics Snob Boy .................................... Maurice Beyke |
| Paprika Pitts ..................................... Arthur Spitzer |
| Cheesecake-Eater Lad ................... Matthew Jotham Millheiser |
| Marvel Zombie Lad ................................ Benjamin Pierce |
| Kid Yesterdaze .................................. Karthik P. Sheka |
| California Kid ................................ Dan'l Danehy Oakes |
| Lurking Girl ........................................... Tori Fike |
| Loquacious Lad .................................... Greg Schomburg |
| Miss Calico .......................................... Tom Russell |
| Building Suspense Lad ............................. Arthur Spitzer |
| Catalyst Lass ..................................... Elisabeth Riba |
| The Kiwis ................................... Ian "Descrii" Porell |
| Ultimate Ninja ........................... Raymond "wReam" Bingham |
| Obscure Trivia Lad .................................. Brian Perler |
| Halls Jordan ....................................... Jef Kolodziej |
| Cliche Dude ........................................ Jef Kolodziej |
| Anal-Retentive Archive Kid I ....................... Saxon Brenton |
|--------------*----------------AND YOU--------------*--------------|


==========
Next Week: Something LNH I guess?
==========

Arthur "Same Classic Channel. But Same Time? Probably not." Spitzer

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)