Cineverse - Bride Of The Slime Monster Part 25

"It was after we got caught in that Cineverse cycle," he began, "-you know, all those swashbucklers."

"Swashbucklers?" Zabana asked, the oddest look on his jungle-bred features.

"And then he came and rescued us," Roger added rapidly. "But he said that none of us would-uh-remember any of it."

His voice faltered as he realized the problem with his explanation. How could anybody remember what happened if they weren't supposed to?

His mother's voice cut into the silence. "Roger, if you're not going to pay attention to me, I might as well leave." She glanced up and down the beach with a frown, as if this was the first time she had really looked at her surroundings. "How did I get here, anyway?"

The jungle prince spoke hesitantly. "Zabana. .. remember. . . swords."

"Mrs. Gordon," Delores said helpfully, "we'll try to explain everything to you, as soon as we can figure it out ourselves."

"Well, thank you," Roger's mother replied, somewhat mollified. "At least someone is looking out for my welfare. And who is this attractive young lady? For heaven's sake, Roger, you could introduce people to your mother!"

"In a minute, Mother," Roger answered. "So you remember the Plotmaster, too?''

Zabana nodded slowly. "Only now you mention it.""Yeah," Louie added slowly. "I remember-all these swashbuckling places-and this guy in blue smoke."

"Blue shmoke?" Doc called from the sand. "I thought it wash one of my vis.h.i.+ons!"

Louie whistled. "And Roger remembered it. See, guys? I told you Roger had his methods!"

"No wonder he new Captain Crusader," Zabana agreed.

Oh, that. In all the hubbub with his mother, Roger had almost forgotten the new honor bestowed upon him. But the more he thought of it-even if he could somehow be- come the hero's hero-this situation was too serious for a lone individual. Combating the Change called for everybody working together. He decided he'd have to have a heart-to-heart talk with everybody about this, too-as soon as he cleared up this business about the Plotmaster.

"But there's more," Roger continued. "The Plotmaster contacted me for a reason.

There was something he wanted to warn me about,"

"Roger!" his mother exclaimed, the imperious tone returning to her voice. "I'll start warning you, if you don't introduce me-"

"In a minute-" Roger began, when he realized he was surrounded by blue smoke. He glanced around at the fog-shrouded shapes of his companions, shapes that had ceased moving, as if the smoke had frozen the world. There was something else odd, too.

This smoke had arrived without the usual explosion. But there was some sound- music, faint and high, like a distant choir of angels. Who could- ROGER, BABY, LONG TIME NO SEE!.

WE HAVE TO TALK.

It was, of course, the Plotmaster, backlit as usual, smoking his blue-smoke cigar. This time, Roger was considerably happier to see him.

"At last!" Roger called. He grinned broadly. The Plot-master could explain everything. "Now you can finish your warning. I do appreciate it, sir. I'm sure it helped me to survive. But could you tell me, was it something to do with the Art Film world, or was it about the size of the Cowa-bunga-munga?"

But the Plotmaster shook his backlit head.

ROGER, SWEETIE, BABY!.

MY WARNING WAS FOR NOTHING THAT COMMON.

THOSE THINGS HAPPEN IN THE CINEVERSE EVERY DAY.

Of course. Roger should have realized that. After all, the Plotmaster hadn't meddled in most of the earlier crises they had faced. The situation would have to be truly extraordinary for this powerful being to show his hand. That, of course, meant the warning could have referred to only one thing."Oh, then it was the death of Captain Crusader," Roger said with confidence.

But the Plotmaster's head was still shaking.

NO, EVEN AN EVENT OF THAT SCOPE IS NOT UNUSUAL IN THE.

CINEVERSE.

LISTEN, THIS IS IMPORTANT.

The Plotmaster took a long drag on his cigar, as if contemplating what was the best way to broach a subject of this gravity. Blue smoke curled upwards to join the like- colored fog that surrounded the two of them, obscuring everything else on the beach.

After a moment, the big man waved his stogie at Roger.

WE'RE TALKING ABOUT REAL DISASTER, HERE.

I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU BEFORE YOUR MOTHER SHOWS UP.

"My mother?" Roger asked, almost laughing despite himself. What would the Plotmaster want with his mother. "But she's here already."

SHE IS?.

The Plotmaster stood there, frozen for an instant, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

A chill shot through Roger. The mention of his mother didn't seem humorous anymore. This was the first time he had ever heard fear in the big man's voice.

The Plotmaster looked upwards.

SID, DID YOU HEAR THAT? WHY WASN'T I TOLD?.

Roger couldn't make out the answer. It sounded like nothing so much as a blast of music from the angelic choir.

SID, THAT'S NO EXCUSE!.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR CHERUBS!.

YOU'RE FIRED.

The angelic choir cut off abruptly. The Plotmaster turned his attention back to Roger.

LIKE I TOLD YOU, ROGER BABY, I CAN BE RUTHLESS.

BUT WHAT CAN WE DO-NOW?.

He picked up a thick sheaf of paper from the table behind him, and began to leaf through it. Roger remembered: Last time, the Plotmaster had called this wad of paper "the script."

UM.

the Plotmaster muttered,WELL IF THAT'S TRUE, MAYBE WE CAN- He turned the page.

UH-OH.

He flipped a few more pages.

OH DEAR.

OH NO.

THAT'S INHUMAN.

He sighed, and looked at the end.

He didn't move for a long moment. The blue ember at the end of his cigar dimmed and threatened to go out. The last page had left him speechless. He threw the script back on the table, then turned heavily back to Roger, as if he had the weight of the Cineverse upon him.

I'M SORRY, ROGER.

I DID TRY TO REACH YOU BEFORE IT WAS- TOO LATE.

Then there was another sound. It wasn't an angelic choir this time. The noise was a harsh, staccato braying, like the laughter of some demented G.o.d.

The Plotmaster threw his hands in front of his face, as if to ward off some invisible danger. He screamed at Roger over the booming laugh: OH NO!.

THE CHANGE HAS BEGUN! I CAN DO NO MORE!.

MORE!.

More!

more!

more.

The Plotmaster was gone, the blue smoke drifting away. The echo faded as Roger realized people were once again moving around him. His mother was complaining again, but everyone else had turned to stare at a spot farther down the beach.

And, Roger realized, the laughter hadn't gone away.

^ ^ 19 ^ ^

"THE CHANGE-OR THE END?".

"Ah hahahaha!" Menge the Merciless chortled from where he stood in front of a gigantic silver machine. "Ah hahahaha!"

"Why, Mr. M!" Roger's mother called. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Menge stopped laughing. "Mrs. G. What are you doing here?"

"A woman has to travel," she replied. "It's so important to travel, Mr. M. Especially when you reach our age."

Roger couldn't believe this! His mother was flirting with one of the most evil men in the Cine verse!

"But, Mother!" he interrupted. "Don't you realize who this is? This is Menge the Merciless!"

His mother looked quizzically at Dread's henchman.

"Mr. M?"

"Alas, Mrs. G.," Menge said with a sad nod, "your son is quite correct."

"Oh, Mr. M!" Roger's mother said with a smile.

"You're always so polite. Roger, you could learn a lesson from him."

"Mother!" Roger insisted.

"And who, exactly, is Menge the Merciless?" his mother added with the same polite smile.

"He criminal!" Zabana ventured.

"One of the foulest fiends in the Cineverse!" Big Louie added helpfully.

"Dear lady," Menge added smoothly. "All this, too, is correct."

Roger's mother dimpled at being called "dear lady."

"Oh, Mr. M.," she said enthusiastically, "I'm sure there's some way we can work this out."

Roger couldn't believe this. "Mother! Don't you understand? Menge the Merciless is a supervillain!"

She turned to Roger with a frown.

"Now, now, Roger. When a woman gets to be my age, she can't be that choosy.""Well, we'll have to talk about that later, Mrs. G." Menge interjected pleasantly. He patted the complicated machine he had brought with him. "In the meantime, I have to fry your son with the Zeta Ray."

"Oh, dear," his mother replied, a bit of worry creeping in. "Will it hurt him?"

"Not physically, no." Menge replied. "You see, I work for an organization that is intent upon taking over the Cineverse-the area that you are now visiting. As a part of this, we have already removed our primary obstacle, one Captain Crusader.

However, we have since detected a great surge of energy in this particular area, and realized that there might be other threats-however minor-that we should dispense with so that our conquest will be that much easier. We have determined that your son, Mrs. G., may be one of these minor threats."

Roger's mother's hands fluttered in front of her breast. "Do you know, Mr. M., that's the first real explanation I've had since I've gotten here!" She glanced reprovingly at her son. "If only everyone could be as polite. Still, I don't think I can agree to let you point something potentially harmful at my son-even though he is sometimes thoughtless."

"Oh, I a.s.sure you, Mrs. G.," Menge replied quickly, "he won't feel a thing." He pointed at the twin fins, large enough to adorn a 1959 Buick, that sprouted from either side of the large silver contraption. "The special evil-conductors contained in the vacuum tubes of the Zeta Ray will-within a matter of seconds-subtly alter the alpha patterns within your son's brain. In that selfsame matter of seconds, his whole att.i.tude will change. He will no longer be a worthless, namby-pamby do-gooder. He will suddenly see the justice of our cause!"

"Oh, you men and your technical explanations!" Mrs. G. giggled. "Still-"