“Okay, thats it. This dude just popped in here with a pooping sounding effect, and there’re all these other plops in continuity! And I still have no idea what’s going on here! I’m going out for pizza!” Transneapolitan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his coupon book.
“Hey okay, bring back a large taco pizza with extra salsa?” Long-Johns Monkey Guy asks. “One of them goes a long way!”
“No, it’s uh…” Transneawhatshisname’s eyes start moving around, reaching for a quick thought, “the coupon says personal pan only. Sorry.”
“Oh, it’s cool. Just be back before we figure out the plot!” Wednesday reminds him.
Transneapolitan leaves the super-group and enters the Ice Cream Truck. “Those fools! Personal pan, indeed!”
Fifteen minutes later…
“You’re late, Ice Cream Man.” The mild, but commanding voice speaks from a darkened corner booth at Pizza Hut.
“Only 30 seconds sir,” Transneapolitan sits down across from the shaded character, “and it’s “Transneapolitan” now, not Ice Cream Man.”
“42.546 seconds to be precise. What was wrong with Ice Cream Man?” The man moves into the light, revealing his true identity.
“Well, Sir Moriarty, they said it sucks.” Transneapolitan unwraps his napkin from the silverware and places it on his lap.
“It “sucks”? This coming from a team with a guy with a name abbreviated “RM552” because it’s too long to write out for every post?” Moriarty takes a sip of his lemon-flavored ice water. “Francisco thought that the perfect name for the powers that Lucius spelled on you.”
“Yes, well, Francisco is a pissed off old assassin who’s upset that I got the one-up on Bond better than he did! Who would have thought one of the leading agents for MI-6 would be a traitor?” Transneapolitan dips his bread stick into the marinara sauce.
“Enough of this childishness Agent Double “oh” 6. What can you tell me about the JLR’s plot?” Moriarty asks.
“Not a thing. We think there’s some sort of rip in the space-time continuum that keeps mucking up continuity. I think you killed the JLR at one time. I think, but it didn’t happen because it ruined continuity. I think. Apparently, we caused the rip.” Agent 006 pours some mozzarella onto the marinara.
“Hmm…I think I remember something like this happening in Millars’ final Authority arc. I’ll have the Terminatrix use her robot mind to speed check through the issues so we can figure out how to fix it. In the meantime, stay to your role! You better go back before they get suspicious.” Moriarty takes out his checkbook and looks sad. “Could you spot me the bill? I won’t have any money until we take over Big City.”
“Absolutely sir. The team gave me their Visa Platinum Card with an Infinity +1 limit! Fools!” Agent 006 takes out his wallet and lays his credit card on the table. “I’ll just tell them I lost it after a couple days. In the meantime, it’s yours to use as you please.”
“Excellent, 006. Here, take some of this taco pizza with you. 1 slice fills you up like a whole pie! It’s unbelievable what this side of reality has created!” Moriarty rubs his full stomach, readjusting his belt. “Our victory lies with you Transneapolitan.”
Whoa! Transneapolitan is really Agent 006 acting as a spy for Moriarty!? Crazy! How long will the ruse last? How long before the team figures out he “lost” their credit card, and will Spandex Monkey Man be angry he forgot the salsa with the taco pizza? Find out in the next post or more!
