The Story

Chapter 4

"Four-by-Four"

“Stunned” is probably the only word in the English language which so completely expresses the emotional state of Bill Schofeld on the afternoon in question. As a gentleman of the homeless persuasion, Bill had seen many disturbing and disgusting things. The three men standing in front of him were the worst so far.
The guy in front seemed to be the leader. He wore a hot pink and gray sort of armored jumpsuit with this big egg-shaped helmet. The guy just behind him had on purple tights and was carrying a yellow backpack that looked like a child’s waterfight apparatus. The last guy, who sort of lingered far to the back, seemed relatively normal. A navy blue T-shirt and teal slacks is hardly a bold fashion statement, but it sure beat those weirdos in their space-outfits. The three seemed to be having an argument.
Had Bill been more up-to-date on his Handbook of the Marvel Universe, he would have realized that he was looking at the Wizard, founder and leader of the Frightful Four. His comrades, the Trapster and Hydro-Man, had served in that odious team on several prior occasions. And, as Bill had already deduced, they were having an argument.
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” the Trapster whined.
“Shut up, Petruski,” growled Hydro-Man.
The Wizard’s calming tone broke through his teammates’ bickering. “It is only the natural way of things that our hated enemies, the Fantastic Four, be destroyed by us, the Frightful Four. After all, we are their greatest enemies…”
“Actually, isn’t Dr. Doom their greatest enemy?” interrupted the Trapster.
“Shut up, Petruski,” growled Hydro-Man.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, my latest scheme is certain to succeed, and the Fantastic Four will undoubtedly be humiliated and destroyed. But first, we must complete our sinister quadrilateral- as yet, we are only three.”
“’Sinister Quadrilateral?’ Isn’t that awfully… seventies?”
“Shut up, Petruski,” growled Hydro-Man.
Frustrated, the Wizard nonetheless continued his train of thought. “Our former companion, Klaw, has accepted a lucrative job with a new Masters of Evil in the Midwest, and the lady Thundra has since moved on to another dimension. Titania has married the Absorbing Man, and besides- after that Spider-Man debacle you and she were involved with a few years ago, Titania made it quite clear that the next time she saw you, she would- er- ‘Rip off your least redeeming appendage and beat you to death with it.’ I shudder to guess which one she had in mind.”
“Then why don’t we fly to the moon, kidnap Madame Medusa, and hypnotize her into joining us again?”
“Shut up, Petruski!” snapped Hydro-Man.
“Then let’s just be the Frightful Three,” protested the Trapster.
“We can’t be the Frightful Three,” the Wizard reminded him. “Then, it wouldn’t rhyme.”
“I thought that was called alliteration,” questioned the Trapster.
“Shut up, Petruski!” bellowed Hydro-Man.
“This will be just fine- you’ll see,” said the Wizard, now approaching the rapidly-sobering Bill Schofeld. “You sir!” cried the Wizard. “How would you like to be a part of the world’s foremost super-villain team?” Bill shrugged. The Wizard continued. “There’s $20 in it for you…”
“Um… okay!” said the newest member of the Frightful Four.
“Excellent. Then all you need is a villainous name!”
“My name is Bill,” said Bill.
“Yes,” conceded the Wizard. “But you need a code name- a name other than your own.”
“Ah,” said Bill, perhaps understanding. He gave the matter some thought. “How about ‘Mitch?’”
The Wizard seemed a little perturbed. “Well, okay, I guess. Sure. But that doesn’t seem very… terrifying, does it?”
“What about, ‘The Terrifying Mitch?’” asked the Terrifying Mitch.
“Well, I suppose that will do for now,” said the Wizard. “We can always, uh, fine-tune it later.”
“Oh, Jesus!” cried the Trapster. “’The Terrifying Mitch?’ I mean, ‘The Terrifying Mitch’?!?!?!? I used to think ‘Paste-Pot Pete’ was bad. But, ‘The Terrifying Mitch??!?!?’”
“Shut up, Petruski,” growled Hydro-Man.

* * *

The fare from Dr. Strange’s Greenwich Village home to the Four Freedoms Plaza was exactly $29. Apparently, thought Chuck as he forked over the very last of his money, freakish coincidences happen to normal people, too. Joe thought momentarily about hypnotizing the cabbie into letting them go without paying, but then thought better of it. I could always hypnotize someone else into giving us money, and there’s no sense in cheating folks until we really, really have to.
“Uh, guys,” said Kyle, interrupting his friends’ thoughts. “What the hell happened to the Fantastic Four?” The question, of course, was rhetorical. All three young men could see perfectly well that the upper floors of the Four Freedoms Plaza had been blown to shit. And, all three remembered that the Masters of Evil had been the to-shit-blowers several months previously.
“Crap!” cried Joe. “Why didn’t we remember?!?!?”
Kyle and Charles just shrugged.
“Well, we may as well go in here. Maybe we could set off an alarm or something—then the Fantastic Four will come find us.”
After a few lines of unimportant dialogue, the guys agreed that that was, indeed, the best solution. They picked their way through the scattered debris, and made their way into the ex-home of the Fantastic Four. They didn’t realize that at the same time, four other men were landing on top of the building and preparing to make their own way inside.

“87,” said Joe, straining his trivia-memory to its greatest. “When the F.F. disappeared with that whole ‘Heroes Reborn’ nonsense, Nathan Richards stuffed everything they owned into the Negative Zone portal on the 87th floor. If there are still any alarms active in the building, that’s where they’d be.”
Charles, Kyle, and Joe piled into the elevator. Charles pushed the button marked “87,” and the elevator slowly rose, carrying three friends to their destiny. None had ever been carried to destiny as such before, most especially not to a synthesized softtone rendition of “Build Me Up, Buttercup.” A delightful three-man sing-along ensued.

The All-New, Only-Slightly-Different Frightful Four had arrived by anti-gravity disk on the roof of the Four Freedoms Plaza only a few moments before our heroes began their ascent. Quickly, they had picked their way through the mostly-destroyed upper levels, down to the 87th floor. Hydro-Man assumed his liquid form, and began sloshing about the gigantic room, waiting for some pesky hero or another to try and stop his teammates. The Trapster had his glue-gun armed and ready, and nervously scanned his surroundings for any sign of a fight. The Wizard delicately examined the bowling-ball sized metallic sphere he carried, making last minute adjustments to his evil master plan. The Terrifying Mitch chugged on his bottle of Zima, not terribly interested in what was going on, but ready to fight if he had to. All four villains were prepared for an all-out, no-holds-barred battle against any number of superheroes. They were not prepared for the elevator doors to suddenly slide open, revealing three freakishly dressed young men singing, “Build Me Up, Buttercup.” The one in the Fred Flinstone get-up was the first to stop singing. Hydro-Man, the Trapster, the Wizard, and even the Terrifying Mitch turned to face the newcomers. Eyes opened inhumanly large, the redheaded kid in the clown suit softly muttered, “Oh damn.”

* * *

“Wait!” cried Joe, jumping out of the elevator. The Frightful Four paused just long enough for Joe to add, “You guys could kick our ass in a heartbeat- why not just hear me out?” Joe was only a little irritated to discover that this logic took impeccably well. The villains stared at Joe, expectantly.
“Um…” said Joe, stalling. “Why don’t you fill us in on your master plan?”
The Wizard, duly pleased that he had someone to whom he might brag, began immediately. He gestured first at the shiny metal thing in his hands, then to the swirling black nebula of anti-energy which dominated the far wall. “This device I hold in my hands in an Anti-Matter/Matter Converter. With it, we intend to pull the Fantastic Four’s possessions from out of the Negative Zone, then use their amazing equipment to augment our own already devastating arsenal of wicked, wicked things.”
“I see,” said Joe. “Why not come back and do that tomorrow?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said the Wizard. “Now then. Hydro-Man! Trapster! Terrifying Mitch! Destroy these intruders!” Charles, Kyle, and Joe could only watch as a tidal wave of sentient water scooped itself off of the floor and came crashing down around them.

Well, okay, so the water scooped and raised as though to crash, but it didn’t actually fall. In fact, the massive tidal wave which had threatened to destroy Joe, Charles, and Kyle ended up just sort of dissipating into harmless steam. Through the haze, our heroes could make out the shimmering form of Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, throwing fireballs left and right.
The threat of Hydro-Man now eliminated, Johnny turned his attention to the Trapster. Two deftly-placed blasts of flame slagged the glue-blasters the Trapster had aimed at his arch-enemy. The Trapster began howling in pain, and didn’t stop until he’d managed to sink his forearms in a rapidly dispersing puddle of the Water Formerly Known as Hydro-Man. Before he could wrap up the other half of the quartet, though, the Torch was downed by a blindside blast from the Wizard’s Wonder-Gloves.
The moment Hydro-Man had disappeared, Charles jumped into action. Running behind the very singed Trapster, Charles pulled a glue pellet from the villain’s vest, and threw it with unerring accuracy at the Wonderful Wizard. The pellet ruptured on impact, spilling super-adhesive all over the villain’s chest and arms. The bowling ball fell free, landing with a >CLANG< on the floor. Joe and Charles ran towards the downed super-villain.
Meanwhile, Kyle was embroiled in the fight of his life against the Terrifying Mitch. The two had spent the past minute circling one another, on the pretense of sizing up the other. In fact, neither wanted to be the one to make the first move. They continued circling…
“You fool!” cried the Wizard. “Do you know what you have done!” Kyle, Joe, Charles, the Terrifying Mitch, a pained Trapster, a small puddle of Hydro-Man, and a quickly recovering Human Torch turned to stare at the Wizard, who was in turn staring at the now-smoking silver ball at his feet. “In the core of this device is an Anti-Matter Generator! When it meets with the Matter of which our world is composed, the resulting explosion will wipe out all of New York! We’ll be killed! Hey, what are you doing with those?!?”
That last comment had been directed at Joe, who had already found the “super-secret” latch which the Wizard used to attach his Wonder Gloves to his arms. Christ, almighty, thought Joe. You read a few stinkin’ comic books, you turn into God or something. “That takes care of you, Wizard!” Joe cried, striking a macho pose despite having really nothing to do with the villain’s capture.
“And I’ll take care of this!” Charles had already hefted the silver Doomsday Device from the floor where the Wizard had dropped it. With the bomb cradled in his arms like a football, Charles took off full-speed for the Negative Zone portal on the other side of the room. The Trapster buried his face in his hands, too frightened to watch. Joe gaped, praying to God Chuck knew what he was doing. The Wizard closed his eyes. Kyle and the Terrifying Mitch continued circling one another. Charles reached the portal, the device burning away the skin from his hands. He thought, Too far in this dimension, we all die. Too far into the Negative Zone, it implodes, we still all die. God, I hope I get this right. And then, there was no more time for thinking. Charles put one hand on either side of the ball, and thrust it, and his hands into the Negative Zone. Anti-Matter met Matter meeting Anti-Matter meeting Matter. The device exploded, but the blast was neutralized by the energy-absorbing properties of the thin nexus between the Marvel Universe and the Negative Zone. Charles had saved the world. His thoughts began with I did it!, then moved to Oh my God, I don’t have any hands!. He rounded out the set with a good old-fashioned blacking out.
The moment Joe realized he wasn’t dead, he slid the Wizard’s power glove onto his left hand. Quickly finding the index-finger trigger, Joe fired off a few blasts in the direction of the Trapster and the Terrifying Mitch. Having no coordination to speak of, Joe had to fire a good dozen times before he managed to put the two super-villains down. Kyle had sense enough to duck and cover the moment he realized what Joe was trying. Now, with the Human Torch back on his feet and the Frightful Four out of commission, Joe and Kyle moved to help Charles. As they got nearer to the place where Charles had fallen, Kyle and Joe watched their friend shake his head and slowly stand to his feet. As their eyes fell on where Charles’ hands had once been, though, Joe and Kyle recoiled in disgust.

* * *

“Pretty cool, huh?” said Charles. He, Kyle, Joe, and Johnny “I’m the Human Torch” Storm were sitting around a formica coffee table with a large blue 4 etched into its center. He was referring not to the coffee table, but to his hands, which all three young men studied intently. Their outline was still there. Any onlooker could easily see fingers, palms, and wrists placed precisely where they should have been. But, rather than those other things associated with hands, like skin, hair, and lines, were two seemingly starry voids. Before, staring at Charles’ hands had been like staring at two hands in black gloves. Now, staring at Charles’ hands was like staring into the depths of space, or, in point of fact, like staring into the Negative Zone.
“That doesn’t hurt?” asked Joe. “Or tingle? Or something?”
“Nope,” said Charles. “In fact, I can’t really feel them at all. I can move them, but I can’t feel them.”
Joe raised his Wonder Glove, and fired a force-bolt at Charles. “Here, catch!”
“No problem,” responded Charles. He brought his hands up, and the energy passed harmlessly into the energy-absorbing Negative Zone.
“I love that!”
“It’s not fair!” cried Kyle. “Now Charles has a super-power! I mean, sure, not being able to feel your hands is a pretty lame super-power, but still! And you!” he shouted, turning his attention to Joe, “you’re loaded down with equipment! You’ve got that stupid hypno-jacket, and that talisman-ring thing, and the Wizard’s blaster glove, and now you’ve got that stupid vest thing you stole from the Trapster, too!”
“It’s fair for me to keep this stuff, because I had it first,” said Joe.
“Well, I guess that’s true,” said Kyle. “But I still wish I had something.”
“Don’t worry, Kyle; I’m sure you’ll get your chance.” With those words, Joe put a comforting hand on Kyle’s shoulder. Charles and Joe both gave Kyle encouraging, reassuring looks, and it would have been obvious to any onlookers that all three young men really cared for each other. Yeah, right. After about two seconds of staring seriously at Kyle, Joe broke first into snickers, then into outright squeals of delight. He and Charles exchanged glances and laughter before turning back to Kyle. “What’s it like to have no powers- no powers boy?”
Kyle turned away, his brilliant mind already racing to devise the universe’s most witty retort. Yeah, right. Like no powers boy could ever think of something clever. This line is about to be interr-
Suddenly, Mr. Fantastic burst into the small kitchen, interrupting the previous paragraph. “I’m sorry, boys,” he was saying. “I’ve checked and re-checked, but there’s just no way I can send you home.” His lovely wife, Susan Storm-Richards, was just behind him.
“But you’re all more than welcome to stay with us this evening. We’ll gladly fix you a little dinner, and give you a warm place to stay. Then, tomorrow, we can look into setting you up some place more permanent.”
“Well, thank you very much, Dr. and Mrs. Richards,” Joe said before turning back to Charles and Johnny Storm. “Why don’t the three of us go outside for a minute?”
“Sure,” Johnny said with a shrug. Charles also nodded his assent. The three stepped out onto Pier Four, the waterfront that was serving as the headquarters for the Fantastic Four.
“Why don’t you flame on?” Joe suggested to Johnny.
With another shrug, and a familiar shout, Johnny Storm burst into flame. Joe pulled his last cigarette from his pack, and leaned in close to Johnny’s chest. After taking a few experimental puffs to ascertain that his cigarette was successfully lit, Joe crumpled the pack into a small ball, and shoved it into Charles’ hands, where it quickly disintegrated.
“Thanks,” Joe said. “You guys’ve been great.”

* * *

The next morning, Joe found himself pressed against the cold metal wall of the Fantastic Four’s warehouse/home, trying desperately not to be seen. I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought to himself as he slowly crept his way along the wall. It’s not too late to stop. I can turn around, go back to bed, and no one will be the wiser. These thoughts notwithstanding, Joe slipped around the last corner prior to his destination. Heat and steam poured from out of the door as Joe’s hand curled around the knob. I can’t believe I’m doing this—but I’ve GOT to. Taking one last glance around, Joe carefully turned the handle, and slid unnoticed into the room from which “Build Me Up, Buttercup” was blaring in a deep baritone voice.
“Sweet Jumpin’ Petunia!” cried the Thing, reaching out to wrap the not-too-terribly-large shower curtain around his otherwise naked body. “What the hell are you doin’ in here, kid?!?”
Immediately, Joe was embarrassed and more than a little frightened. “Umm…” he stammered. “Umm…” “I was just looking for my toothbrush.” He paused, letting the lie sink in. “Plus I’m sleepwalking. I frequently brush my teeth in my sleep, but I couldn’t find my toothbrush, so I’m sleepwalking, and looking for my toothbrush. And I’m lost. I was sleepwalking, looking for my toothbrush, so I could brush my teeth in my sleep, but then I got confused, so now I’m willing to forego my toothbrush just to find my way back to bed. Oh, wait! I don’t even have a toothbrush, not in this reality anyway, I mean, I brush my teeth back home, you know, in my dimension, and I- aww, just forget about it. Forget I was even here.”
That last suggestion seemed good enough for Ben, who shrugged, and went back to his shower. Joe slunk quietly from the bathroom. I can’t believe I did that. But, Jason Lee is right- you’ve just GOT to know.
I wonder if I should tell Kyle and Chuck?
I wonder how long it will take to get this mental picture out of my head?

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Joe, Charles, and Kyle were once again sitting around the 4mica table, this time with Reed, Sue, and Franklin Richards. Five of the six people in the room were eating a scrumptious sausage-and-eggs breakfast. One of the six people in the room was trying to push a terribly disturbing mental picture from his mind and wondering if he’d ever have the strength to eat again.
“What’s the matter, Joe?” Sue Richards asked, her voice beaming with the sweetness and light of anyone’s mother but your own. “Isn’t the food good? Would you like something else?”
Reed’s pliable body went to work, stretching to cover his young son’s ears. Franklin, nonplussed, continued eating. “I haven’t seen anyone seem this down,” said Reed, “since that time Johnny accidentally walked in on Ben in the shower.” His “adult talk” finished, Reed relaxed his grip on his son’s sense of hearing.
“Noooooooooooooooooooooo!” cried Joe, the sheer agony of overwhelming nausea biting at his brain. “Uh… I mean, No,” he clarified. “That is, the food is excellent. I just- didn’t sleep well.”
“Well, that’s understandable,” said Sue, reveling in her role as a translucent June Cleaver. “No one sleeps well their first night in a new place- especially in a new dimension.
“Plus,” Sue continued, her voice dropped to global-conspiracy tones, and the hearing of both her son and her husband blocked by two pairs of invisible ear-plugs, “the beds here aren’t very comfortable. ‘World’s Smartest Man’ my ass. You’d think he could spend a little less time making Negative Zone portals and Pogo Planes and spend a little time getting the hot tub working.” Her piece said, Sue gave the men in her life back their ability to hear.
Joe laughed a little at Sue’s candor, then looked back at his meal with a renewed sense of hope. Just then, Ben “Is his dork made of orange rock?” Grimm walked into the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast, Suzie?”
Joe pushed his plate away, choking back the intense desire to go somewhere very, very far away and die. “You can have mine, B- Mr. Grimm.”
“Thanks a lot, kid,” said Ben, pulling up his own super-dense chair. “Hey, you know I- naw, nevermind, I forget.”
Joe turned bright red and tried to stop staring at the Thing (no pun intended). When that didn’t work, he tried plucking out his eyes with his kitchen knife. Somehow, though, his heart just wasn’t in it. Just when Joe thought he would never be able to string together coherent thoughts again, the nearest television sprang to life.
“…Tilby reporting live from Central Park, where it appears that several members of the group formerly known as the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants are participating in some sort of Legacy Virus protest. Details are sketchy at this point, but my sources tell me that the X-Men are en route. Currently sighted in the park: the Blob, and a mysterious black-cloaked woman who seems to have shorted out our cameras. Eyewitnesses speculate that there are at least two more evil mutants in the area. We’ll have further news as this story develops. In the meantime, we return you to your regularly scheduled edition of ‘Secret Hospital.’”
Chuck’s head whirled furiously toward Mr. Fantastic, his eyes bigger than the Blob’s waistline. “Didyouhearthat? TheBrotherhoodofEvilMutantsisinCentralPark! TheX-Menareenroute! Let’sgo!” Mr. Fantastic shrugged.
“We generally tend to stay out of the X-Men’s way. Mutant things are their milieu. We do extra-dimensional threats, the Avengers handle mainstream supervillainy. I admit, it’s not a perfect system, what with all the mainstream extra-dimensional mutant supervillains and all, but it works for us. The Brotherhood is purely an X-Men gig.”
Undaunted, Charles spun to look at Joe. This time, he spoke slowly, as if trying to make a point painfully- desperately- clear. “The X-Men. Are in Central Park. And we’re not. HELP ME!”
Momentarily shaking what will undoubtedly go down in history as the Single Most Disturbing Image Ever EVER from his brain, Joe looked up at first Charles, then Mr. Fantastic. “They might need our help,” Joe said.
“Well, okay,” said Reed, pulling a small set of keys from his pocket. “You can take the extra Pogo Plane. Just be sure to get it back in one piece.”
Just sort of important issues like the fact that none of the three boys actually knew how to fly a Pogo Plane were discarded before Joe could form the words. Precisely thirty-seven seconds from the time Mr. Fantastic said the word “piece,” Joe, Kyle, and Charles were flying a Pogo Plane toward Central Park at breakneck speed.


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