DO-GOODERS

                 Original Concept by Stefan Gagne

        Episode 5 - Another Gig!  And Why Is Richard Wagner 
                     Rolling Over In His Grave?

                         by Alan Harnum

     There is a tavern in Valhalla.  Well, actually, there are
many taverns in Valhalla.  And mead halls.  And grog houses.  And 
pubs.  And only one detox clinic, unfortunately.

     The name of the tavern doesn't really matter.  Call it the
Wench and Grog, or the Friar's Privy, or something like that.
Taverns like these are universal.  The floor is covered in reeds
soaked in a combination of ale, saliva and less mentionable
substances.  The wooden tables are scarred with the graffiti and
stained with spilled drinks.  It is the kind of tavern where, if
a man ordered a drink with a name like a Singapore Sling, he 
would have his ears lopped off on basic principle.  If any
good-natured hobbits stopped by on a Significant Quest, the
inhabitants of the tavern would make short jokes, and cheerfully
roll them in the side alley for their wallets.

     Being a tavern in Valhalla, the patrons were primarily 
deceased Viking warriors, a notoriously rowdy lot.  However, most
dead warriors found reason to visit Valhalla at one time or
another, as it's generally considered a lot more fun than most of
the other afterlives.  This explained the Roman centurion 
drinking merrily with the two Gauls, and the sombre albino who
sat by himself, gazing blearily into his cups while his hand 
rested on the hilt of an immense black sword.  Valhalla had
instituted a weapons check a while ago, but no one had really
been willing to handle the weapon, and, as the albino looked
rather frail and peaceful and not given to "accidentally" killing
people as some were, he had been allowed to keep it.

     But the two patrons of concern to us at this point are the
two dwarves in the corner table by the fire, quaffing (as only
dwarves can) mug after mug of ale and making elf jokes.  Their
names were Balin and Dalin, currently employed as inventory 
takers for the massive armouries of Valhalla.  

     Balin was in the process of telling an elaborate and lewd
story (with hand gestures) about an elf, a farmer's daughter, and
a cheese grater.  Dalin was currently snorting ale out of his
prodigious dwarfish nose as he laughed.

     It was at this point that the Valkyries arrived.  More
specifically, the head Valkyrie kicked down the inch-thick tavern
door with one delicate foot (covered in a not-so-delicate 
steel-toed boot) and walked in.

     "Where are the dwarves?" she shouted.

     Dalin started to choke on his ale.  Balin thumped him on the
back, looking at the head Valkyrie with an attempt at innocence 
(which a half-drunk dwarf is about as capable of as a fish is
capable of breathing air).  The other tavern patrons began to
quickly clear out, in some cases by jumping out the windows.  A
fundamental rules of Valhalla was this:  Don't Mess With the
Valkyries.

     It wasn't that the Valkyries were particularly violent.  
Well, actually, it was that.  That and the fact that each of them
was over six feet tall, semi-divine, and strong enough to pull a 
man's head clean off his body.  

     A half-dozen of them now filed into the Wench and Grog (or 
if you prefer, the Friar's Privy).  They were quite perfect,
being semi-divine, and every one of them was a voluptuous and
lovely example of Teutonic womanhood (albeit an extremely large
example of Teutonic womanhood), which might have been quite
appealing for the dwarves under the right circumstances, except
for the fact that each of them was carrying a spear the size of
the small tree and looked quite ready to insert it through 
various parts of dwarvish anatomy.

     "You, puny little men," the head Valkyrie shouted, tossing
her head majestically so that her braids of golden hair flipped
over her back in a majestic manner.  "You will talk to us now."

     "Bartender, fetch ale," shouted another.  Valkyries always
shouted.  They were incapable of whispering.  "Now."

     The dwarves quaked at their table as the Valkyries walked
over.  Behind the bar, the trembling tavernkeeper was currently
filling a half-dozen mugs of ale for the thirsty Valkyries, who
now ringed the table around the dwarves.

     "You are inventory keepers for armoury number four," the
head Valkyrie declared in a slightly softer tone, which wasn't
really saying much.  

     "Yes," Balin answered in a squeaky voice.  Dalin was still
choking on his ale, eyes bulging.  "Well, he is, I'm really just
his assistant and oh please please please don't kill me--"

     "Silence," the head Valkyrie declared.  She grabbed a 
tankard of ale from the tray a terrified serving wench proffered,
and drained it in one gulp.  "More.  I am Brunhilda.  We are
running the annual millennial inventory check, yes?  We are
noticing certain discrepancies among your records of inventory
and contents of armoury."

     The other five Valkyries nodded while quaffing their ale, in
an admittedly ladylike manner, or as ladylike as one can ever
quaff.

     Balin managed to avoid wetting himself by a close margin.
"Please please please don't kill me--"

     "Quiet," Brunhilda declared.  "Swords of duality.  Supposed
to be twenty.  Two are missing, yes?"

     "Well--"
     
     Brunhilda reached out, casually hefted the nearly-recovered
Dalin, and defenestrated him.  "Is very bad, yes?  Ragnarok
supposed to come when all swords of duality in hands of mortal
men or women.  Ragnarok is very bad, you know?  End of 
everything?"

     "Well--"
     
     Brunhilda reached out and defenestrated Balin as well, just
for a laugh.  Then she quaffed another mug of ale, wiped the foam
off her lush red lips, and stood up.  "Time to go to Bilfrost,
sisters, yes?  Is work to do in Midgard."

     The Valkyries let out a rousing cheer, quaffed their own 
ale, and left the tavern, mounting up on their flying horses and
taking off into the sky.

     Lying in the shattered glass of the window they'd been
tossed out of, Balin glanced to Dalin.  "Well, I suppose that
went as well as could be expected, eh?"  He looked up into the 
pinkish eyes of the gaunt albino from the tavern, who was
looking down at them.  "Wot do you want?"

     "Buy you fellows a drink?" the tall man asked mournfully, 
caressing the hilt of his moaning runesword.  

**********

     Nemesis Serendipity Villyn hung up the phone and grinned
evilly.  He wasn't really capable of grinning in any other way.
His mouth wasn't made for it.

     "I know that grin," Aki Villyn said as she picked up her
schoolbag from the chair in the front hall and prepared to leave
the house that morning.  "What evil scheme have you come up with 
this time to crush your so-called adversaries?"

     Thousands of years of villainous tradition warred with the
mind within the armoured head of the self-proclaimed Overlord of 
the World.  On the one hand, his daughter had warned his foes of 
the last attack.  On the other, a villainous plan was nothing if 
it was not gloated over.  Villainous tradition won.
     
     "It's perfect, daughter dear," Villyn said with a booming
laugh, clapping a gauntleted fist against his armoured chest with
a clang.  "I've arranged the perfect ambush for our friends the 
Do-Gooders!"

     Aki rolled her eyes.  "Oh?  Really?"
     
     Villyn laughed again.  "It was simplicity itself!  I called
up my friends in the Tokyo Legitimate Businessmen's Club, and 
played their sugary-good but admittedly rocking demo tape.  They
immediately agreed to have the Do-Gooders perform at their
headquarters this very evening."

     "But daddy," Aki said with mock-horror.  "The Tokyo
Legitimate Businessmen is just a front for every organized-crime
boss who ever has reason to be in Japan."

     "Precisely!" Villyn gloated gloatingly.  "You are beginning
to catch on, daughter!  The genes of Villyn runs strong through
your body!  Will you be joining me on the path of darkest evil 
any time soon?"

     "Maybe next week," Aki replied flippantly.  "See you after
school, daddy.  Don't forget we have group after dinner today."

     Villyn's lip curled into a sneer.  "Evil has no time for
group, Aki.  My villainous plans are proceeding tonight.  I will
have to miss our weekly group, I am afraid."

     "Evil has a court order requiring him to attend," Aki
pointed out.  "Don't forget that."

     "Damnation!" Villyn swore, as Aki stepped out the door.  He
crossed his massive arms over his chest and pouted for a moment.
"Ah well, my plan is perfect.  The Legitimate Businessmen will
deal with the Do-Gooders, unless some sort of outside 
interference takes place.  Which couldn't possibly happen.  
Because my plan is perfect.  Which will mean I can go to group
with Aki tonight."

     Villyn laughed maniacally and shook his fist as a stray mote
of dust that happened to offend him.  "Cringe, world!  The reign 
of Villyn shall soon begin!"

     As soon as he finished his court-required group therapy
sessions with Aki, he added silently.  Then, inserting his 
pilfered demo tape into the built-in tape deck of his armour, 
he began to get down and funky with his own bad self.

**********

     Tejina woke up to find she was being smothered to death.
More specifically, a mangy cat was sleeping on her face.  She
yanked it off and dropped it to the floor, then sat up in bed,
hacking and picking hair out of her mouth.

     "You don't havta be so rough," the cat said, weaving from
side to side on the floor.  She was still hung over, apparently,
from drinking all the beer in the fridge over the last two days.  
Tejina had blamed it on Kireiko when her parents had asked, and 
he had been promptly banned from the house for life.  As he had 
already been banned from the house for life six times in the past 
month, Tejina decided simply to ignore it.  Her parents didn't
pay much attention to what went on around them anyway; they were
too busy making obscene amounts of money.

     "Don't sleep on my face," Tejina to the cat sourly as she
got out of bed.

     "It was comfortable," the cat replied, and hiccuped.  
"Princesh Amore always let me..."

     The cat, whose name was apparently Daisy, promptly fell over
and passed out.  Tejina sighed and dropped a blanket over it, 
then began to get ready for school.  As she was in the process of
pulling her dress over her head, the door opened without a knock,
and her younger brother bounced in.  

     "Hey Tej hey Tej hey Tej," he shouted annoyingly, hopping
from foot to foot.  

     "WHAT?" Tejina screamed, yanking on her dress at the speed
of light and looming over the nine year-old annoyance.

     "AAAAH!  She yelled at me!" he cried, and immediately burst
into tears.  "Tejina-chan yelled at me!"

     "Eiji, shut up," Tejina hissed.  "What is it?"
     
     Eiji stopped crying immediately.  "You have a phone call.
Something about your band."

     He began to hop from foot to foot again.  "Are you guys
gonna have a gig again, Tej?  Can I come?  Can I can I can I can
I?"

     "NO!" Tejina shouted with exasperation.  Eiji immediately
burst into tears again, as Tejina ran by him to get the phone.

     Daisy poked her head out from under the blanket and blearily
regarded the sobbing boy.  "Keep it down, would you?"

**********
     
     Keiko stared at the map of Tokyo.  She picked up the red
marker, and carefully connected the buildings.  Eventually, a
pattern began to emerge.

     Pushing up her glasses and carefully adjusting the cape that
complemented her oh-so-evil black leather villainess ensemble,
she checked her calculations in the book that lay on the table in 
her Hidden Sanctuary of Evil (formerly known as the basement).

     It was no ordinary book.  It had been given to her by 
demons.  Suburbanite demons who had lost the touch for evil, but
demons all the same.  It fulfilled every expectation she had of
what a book of penultimate evil should look like; clasped with
cold iron, bound in human skin, and embossed with a large
goat's-head pentagram.  The title was, aptly, the Book of
Penultimate Evil.  She tried to avoid mentally acknowledging the
fact that she was using a Kiropi bookmark, as that didn't seem
particularly evil.

     Evil was good, Keiko thought as she worked.  Or at least,
evil was good to a lonely, plain girl in high school who had to
wear thick glasses and contend with acne while everyone else went
with contact lenses and clear complexions.  She was going to get
everybody back.

     "Ha... ha... ha... OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" she managed
finally, covering her mouth with one hand.  She had painted her
nails black a few days ago; the fact that she hadn't yet managed
to get out of the childish habit of chewing them diminished the
effect slightly.

     She glanced from book to map, and from book to map again.
"It's perfect," she whispered.  "The ultimate focus for the
summoning of evil power in all of Tokyo."

     The downtown headquarters of the Legitimate Businessmen's
Club.  Her plan was perfect.  Nothing could possibly go wrong.
All she had to was wait until tonight.

**********

     Kireiko tugged his leather jacket tighter over his school
uniform, adjusted his shades, and grinned.  

     "'You da bomb, baby,'" he said in English, walking out of
his room and down the stairs.  As he walked into the kitchen, a
piece of toast flew out of nowhere and attached itself to his
forehead by means of peanut butter.

     "Breakfast, son," his mother said cheerfully.  "Want eggs
too?"

     "No," Kireiko grunted, detaching the toast from his face.
"That's fine.  I've got to get to school anyway."

     His mother smiled vacantly at him.  "Be sure to wear your
ofuda, dear."
     
     "Yes, mom," he muttered as he headed for the front door.
As he placed his hand on it, his father suddenly loomed ominously
out of the nearby living room, eyes blazing behind his glasses.
     
     "Kireiko," he intoned in a voice like the toll of doom.  
Fire seemed to flash behind him as he confronted his half-oni son
in the front hall.
     
     "What?"
     
     "Phone call."    
     
**********     

     "Brother Maynard!"
     
     Brother Maynard winced, and looked up from his game of
Solitaire.  The bearded leader of the Tokyo Local Secret Cult of
Cthulhu had descended the hundred steps into the dark pit where
the cult held their oh-so-secret meetings.  For the most part,
this involved fooling around with the computer and drinking Dr.
Pepper.  Cthulhu worship wasn't what it used to be.

     Maynard was the sole surviving lackey of the cult.  The
other two had been eaten in an attempt to ensnare a distinctly
uncooperative oni into serving as the host for the spirit of
Great Cthulhu, who would enter into his body and marry Jodi
Foster.  Or something like that.

     "I'll get on finding a host for our lord right away, sir,"
he muttered.  

     "No, no, not that," the eminent leader said jovially.  "I
need you for another task.  I'll be attending the monthly 
gathering of the Legitimate Businessmen's Club tonight, in my
real-world guise of a perfectly normal American businessman from
Innsmouth, Massachusetts.  You'll be coming along; my secretary
was eaten by a shoggoth last week, and I need to keep up
appearances."

     "Yes, your eminence," Maynard said without enthusiasm.  He
turned back to his solitaire game.  At least this wouldn't be as
bad as confronting something big and nasty in a dark cave.  What
could possibly go wrong at a meeting of legitimate businessmen?

**********

     Flashing lights.  Humming noises.  A blond man devoured by
wild hounds.  Jellyfish with the face of Humphrey Bogart.  
Tejina in that short little fuku.  A house made out of smaller
houses, and the smaller houses were all made out of ticky-tacky.

     Matsuro woke up screaming.  This was common to him.  He
wasn't a morning person, particularly with bizarre prophetic
dreams plaguing his sleep more and more recently.  Sitting up in
bed, he glanced over to the coat rack, where an extremely cool
sword was covered by an extremely cool black duster.  He'd
somehow acquired the duster during the last concert.  He wasn't
really sure how, but it was at least more normal than how he'd
acquired the sword.

     Once out of bed, he pulled on his school uniform and
wandered into the bathroom to wash.  Glancing at himself in the
mirror, he wondered idly why the urge to grow his hair really,
really long had just suddenly come over him.  With a shrug, he 
performed the morning rituals of sink and toilet and went into 
the kitchen for breakfast.  

     That finished, he pulled on the black duster at the door,
deciding that it indeed looked very cool.  He glanced at the
sword, then picked it up.  It too was very cool; it had spiky
bits, and runes, and gems on the hilt, and looked like it would
very likely make a sound like 'shing' when drawn from a scabbard.
Unfortunately, he didn't have a scabbard, so he decided he'd
simply hide it under his bed until he got back from school.

     As he walked, sword in hand, towards the bed, he tripped
quite spectacularly on an empty soda can, fell backwards, and
released his grip on the sword.  His eyes watched it arc upwards 
to the ceiling, turn over, and then come plunging down towards
his stomach.  He closed his eyes instinctively, felt a slight
tingle, and then nothing else.
     
     Opening his eyes, he watched as the sword sank up to the
hilt into his stomach without any pain.  Then the hilt sank as
well, there was a slight bulge in his flesh, and then nothing.

     "Useful, that," he commented shakily, looking around.  The
walls were vibrating, and a strange voice was singing Italian
opera arias in a somewhat off-key baritone.  Little blue and red
bubbles began to rise out of the floor.  These waking visions got
more and more enigmatic each time he had them.

     As he contemplated the situation of being in the position to
either destroy or save existence and all that this meant, the
phone rang.

**********

     "So we've got a gig?  Tonight?"
     
     Tejina grinned.  "That's right, Matsuro.  The Legitimate
Businessmen's Club has hired the Do-Gooders to perform at their
headquarters this very evening."

     "'Kickass'," Kireiko pronounced in English.  
     
     "Wai!  That is SO cool, Tej!" Becky commented, busily
devouring the contents of her Hello Kitty lunch box.  The four of
them sat in the school cafeteria at lunchtime, discussing the
coming gig.  "Can I play in the band this time?  I just know I'd
be SO good."

     Tejina winced inwardly.  Becky was about as musical as a
hurt dog going down a flight of metal steps in a trash can.  
"Umm... not this time, Becky.  You could help set things up, 
though, okay?"

     "I can be a roadie?" Becky asked, wide-eyed.  "Cool!"

     "Hey guys?"
     
     The four looked up to regard Aki Villyn, who brushed dark
hair back over her shoulders and regarded them right back.  
"Just thought you might like to know that gig you've got tonight
is another one of my dad's fiendish plots.  A deadly trap, a
fiendish ambush, stuff like that.  Anyway, bye."

     She walked off.  Matsuro sighed and cradled his bishounen
head in his bishounen hands.  "I knew it."

     "So did I," Tejina said.  "Of course it's a trap.  I knew
that from the start."

     "So why didn't you tell us?" Kireiko asked in a droll voice.
     
     Tejina coughed nervously.  "Well..."
     
     She shook her head.  "It doesn't matter.  This is the kind
of thing we were born to do, guys.  Fight evil and make really,
really loud music."

     "You guys are so cool," Becky said, starry-eyed as she
looked around the table at her friends.  "I'd do anything to have
powers like you do."

     The other three regarded her with blank stares.
     
     "Why?" Matsuro finally asked.
     
     Becky blinked.  "Because it's so... cool."
     
     At this point, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.
As the four made their way back towards class, Kireiko nudged
Matsuro in the ribs.

     "Hey, pretty boy, did you see that girl checking you out
from the other table?" he asked.

     Matsuro glanced back at the plain, nondescript girl with the
thick glasses, who blushed and ran away, hiding her face behind
hands that had black-painted and slightly mauled fingernails.  
"Yes.  Is there some reason I should care?"

     Kireiko shook his head disgustedly.  "You just don't get it,
do you?"

     Out in the hallway, with the two girls walking a few steps
ahead, Matsuro shrugged.  "She's not as cute as Tejina anyway."

     "Yeah," Kireiko agreed with a nod.
     
     The two bandmates paused in the hallway and regarded each
other with slow realizations, gazes turning from confused to
knowing to challenging to Don't Mess With Me, Punky, Or I'll Poke
Your Eyes Out.

     "Well," Kireiko said finally.  "See you after school, then."
     
     "No doubt," Matsuro replied cooly.
     
     Invisible lightning crackled for a moment between the eyes
of the two, and then they turned and walked off towards their
respective classes.

**********

     Later that evening, Becky was aiding the three members of 
the band in setting up their equipment behind a large curtain
that concealed the stage from the audience.

     Tejina pulled part of the curtain out of the way, and 
glanced out at the audience.  There was a distressingly large
number of men in very expensive suits.  They all seemed to be 
watching the stage intently.  

     "We're on in two, guys," she said, glancing back at the band 
members and adjusting the straps of her keyboard.

     "'Bitchin'," Kireiko commented, and went back to glaring at
Matsuro.

     Matsuro nodded in a bishounen manner, and went back to
glaring at Kireiko.  Tejina didn't understand it.  They'd been
acting weird since lunchtime.

**********

     At about the same time, Keiko was in the underground parking
lot of the Legitimate Businessmen's Club headquarters, chanting
over a pentagram drawn in red nail polish.  Watered down, it had
to be sorta like blood.

     She turned the pages of the Book of Penultimate Evil, and
kept on chanting.  Soon, evil power beyond mortal comprehension
would be at her command.

     Keiko coughed.  "He...he...eheheeeheeheheheheheeeehehehehe!"

     She still had to work on getting that evil laugh down right,
she reminded herself silently, as the pentagram began to pulse
with unholy light.
     
**********

     At about the same time, Brother Maynard sat nervously with
the eminent leader of the cult, watching the drawn curtain of the
stage with apprehension.  The Legitimate Businessmen didn't seem
all that legitimate to him, frankly.
     
     "Whiskey sour, sir?" a waiter with an obvious bulge under
his suit jacket asked.

     "Don't mind if I do," Maynard replied, grabbing it and
gulping it down.  He couldn't shake the feeling that something
very important was about to happen.

**********

     At about the same time, a half-dozen Valkyries on flying
horses plunged out of the clouds towards the headquarters of the
Legitimate Businessmen.

     "We're going to get the sword of duality back, sisters," 
Brunhilda announced.  "And try not to kill too many people.  
We're in a foreign country now, after all, and diplomacy is 
important."

     Sighs of disappointment went up as the Valkyries converged
on the building.  "Of course," Brunhilda continued, 
"self-defense is perfectly fine."

     For no particular reason, the Valkyries began singing.

**********

     At about the same time, Nemesis Serendipity Villyn sat on a 
chair beside his daughter, in a circle of other parents and 
their children.  The room was painted in bright, happy colours.

     "Okay," said a perky woman sitting in one of the chairs and
trying desperately to look vaguely competent.  "Who'd like to
share something this session?"

     Villyn quickly raised his hand.
     
     "Is this about your coming ascension of the throne of
nations and how all who resist will be crushed beneath your
mighty heel again, Nemesis?" the woman asked wearily.

     Villyn put his hand back down.  He stared at the clock that
hung on one brightly-painted wall.  "I hate this," he muttered to
no one in particular.

**********

DID ALAN HARNUM WRITE THIS?  WHERE ARE ALL THE USES OF THE WORD
'ELDRITCH'?  HOW DO THE VALKYRIES REPRESENT THE PROTO-WAGNERIAN
ARCHETYPE?  WILL VILLYN AND HIS DAUGHTER EVER LEARN THE TRUE
MEANING OF FAMILY?  WHY IS ELRIC BUYING DRINKS FOR DWARVES?  ARE 
THESE LEGITIMATE BUSINESSMEN OR NOT?  WILL KIREIKO AND MATSURO
END UP KILLING EACH OTHER OVER TEJINA?  WHY DO MEN HAVE NIPPLES?
AND JUST WHY THE HECK ARE JODI FOSTER AND GREAT CTHULHU MEANT 
FOR EACH OTHER?

FIND OUT NEXT WEEK!  POSSIBLY!