Click…
Static…
Channel 13.
The television screen flickers before revealing a black and white picture of a pleasant, suburban neighborhood of the 1950’s. The intro to Helen Kane’s “I wanna be loved by you” begins, and the opening credits begin to flash slowly across the screen. In the background, a man in a dress, and a bloody, damaged mask, stands on stage, and begins to dance. His lipstick makes his lips look permanently puckered. Like Betty Boop. Helen Kane begins to sing, and Tempest begins to lip sync on the stage of what appears to be a neighborhood talent show.
“I’m not one of the pretty kind.
All of my thoughts are simple.
I know what’s on my mind.
I’m not… resting until I find,
What would make your eyes glisten with joy.
Now listen… big boy.”
Tempest/Betty Boop gives a wink as he lifts his dress up to reveal a little more calf. An audience member hands him an umbrella… the audience member being Daedalus. Tempest takes it happily and struts across the stage.
“I wanna be loved by you, just you.
And nobody else but you.
I wanna be loved by you, alone.
...boop-boop-ba-doop!”
The studio audience laughs as the title of the show flashes in brief, out of place pink and green letters:
The Astro Creeps
Tempest/Betty Boop/Helen Kane winks mischievously. The screen fades out, and then back into the opening scene.
Daedalus is sitting at the dinner table, newspaper opened, covering his face. Tempest sits across from him, his mask dirty and flawed. Kosnar wears an apron that says “Jesus loves you. But I don’t” above a picture of Jesus Christ on the cross. And below the picture: “Go fuck yourself.”
The sight of Kosnar entering the scene brings enthusiastic applause from the studio audience. He acknowledges them with a cheerful middle finger, before the doorbell rings and the audience quiets. Daedalus folds the paper down so his face can be seen. A look of curiosity comes over him and he looks at Tempest.
“Why, I wonder who that could be. Certainly the Deimos and the Rydells are on vacation this time of year. We all know the Vaughns are scared out of their Sunday Bests when it comes to us, too, don’t we?”
He looks to the studio audience with a smirk and they oblige with laughter.
“So, who’s that tip-tapping over our bridge, Tempest?”
Tempest looks around in confusion.
“Hey, you’ve got our format back!” he exclaims excitedly.
“Well, the Dark Man isn’t as all powerful as he thinks he is. We serve the same God huh? The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away?”
Daedalus spits at the thought.
“The Astro Creeps serve no god. The Creeps taketh whatever the Creeps fucking hunger for. Dark Man or no Dark Man. Kosnar, are you going to just stand there or are you going to see who’s tip-tapping over our bridge?”
Kosnar gives him the finger, to which Daedalus reflects it, nearly dropping his newspaper in the process, and then Kosnar strides towards the door. When he opens it, Dr. Gabriel Baal enters. The studio audience boos and Dr. Baal seems a little surprised by it. He adjusts his neatly pressed suit and grins in at the Creeps like a salesman.
“Dr. Baal… can’t say that I’m surprised to see you. Playing peace maker again?”
"Apparently it's a part of the marital contract, who knew?"
He shrugs, holding out his arms as if to say, what can ya do? Daedalus fakes a laugh.
"Hmph… How is the married life, Doc?"
"Just wonderful. Bountiful in fact. Though I will admit, her actions - particularly those as concerned you and your kind drove something of a temporary wedge between the two of us."
Daedalus makes a face of exasperation, shaking his head briefly. He sighs and puts the newspaper down on the table.
"Apologies for that. We don’t mean to be the cause. In fact, we’ve tried very hard to keep from retaliating for her actions… out of respect for you and your wishes."
"That is… Unexpected. Appreciated, but unexpected nonetheless. We would both have expected retaliation - though, I feel perhaps another should be more deserving of Tempest's ire."
Tempest seems to recoil, jerking at the mention of his name.
"I’ve got my own fires to burn. I don’t need your wife distracting me with her children’s games. This alliance is becoming a burden, Dr. Baal."
He glares out at him from behind the mask, tattered and torn.
"Enough, T. Ah… he does have a point. His presentation could use some work, of course."
Daedalus offers Dr. Baal to enter, shoving out a chair with his foot, implying a spot for the Doctor to sit. He obliges, stepping past Kosnar without so much as looking at him, and adjusts his suit once more as he sits across from Daedalus.
"And so we get to the heart of the issue. I don't expect you to keep your… Child… In line anymore than you can expect me to keep my wife in the same way. But will you deny you cast the first stone?"
"...well, I guess you make a good point. But, at what point did we conspire with one of your enemies at your expense? Against you?"
"Touche… though I suspect that waging a mental war designed to come between my wife and I could be considered worse. And I'll have you know, I have done extreme things in response to a lot less."
Daedalus throws his arms out wildly, a laugh escaping him.
"Child’s play! That’s all it was, Doc."
Kosnar shuts the door, letting it slam a little louder than usual. He stands, his arms crossed in front of the picture of Jesus Christ on his apron.
"Are you here to make peace, Dr. Baal? We’ve got all the time in the world to go back and forth over the wrongs both sides have done to the other. Right now, they’re minor. They’re wounds that can be healed. At least, on our side. I have a feeling that you, and Daedalus, don’t want this to fall into deeper waters. Is that fair?"
Gabriel answers without looking up.
"I don't disagree - I merely pointed to a more worthy target of ire. There is of course an opportunity to draw a line over the recent unpleasantness. There is a tournament to win - and should the chance arise, I would hope we would be able to work towards a common goal."
"The common goal being…"
"...helping you get to the finals?"
"To the Final Girl?"
The Doctor takes a moment to pause, not answering them right away. He smirks a little.
"I'm not as selfish as all that. For us all to reach the finals - for us all to have the chance to dethrone our Queen."
"And once we get to that point, it’s understood, of course, that our alliance is temporarily broken, for obvious reasons. No repercussions, no consequences for our actions, or your actions, to achieve the final goal. I would assume that would be understood, but we know what assuming does. Does that sound reasonable to you?"
"Of course - every man for themselves. I wouldn't suggest anything else."
Tempest jumps in.
"And beyond that? Say I get the opportunity to make the path for you to reclaim your throne. What will that mean for the Astro Creeps going forward?"
"I'm not sure I understand."
Tempest taps his fingers against the table, gazing at Dr. Baal.
"What I’m saying is, in the finals, if I instead assist you in achieving your goal, rather than winning the championship for myself. I’m asking for a closer alliance, Dr. Baal. In exchange, to have the support of you… and your wife… in my wars with the Arsonist, and the Showman."
"I will of course need to discuss this with my wife - though I suspect in that instance… It could be arranged. Though, it dawn's on me, the Magician and your good self may be in a position to stand across from my wife and I. Where, pray tell, will your loyalty lie then?"
It seems that all three of the Creeps roll their eyes at this. Daedalus answers with a hint of annoyance.
"Mr. Cervantes and Tempest have only been partners because of Holden Orson’s fascination with their teaming together. Tempest despises him just as much as he despises the Arsonist."
Suddenly, the scene fades and they're no longer in the pleasant black and white sitcom of the 1950's. Now, they're sitting at Wayne Enterprises. Dr. Baal isn't Dr. Baal at all, now. In fact, Dr. Baal is Bruce Wayne, staring into the eyes of, not Tempest, but Edward Nygma.
"That’s… not going to work for me. Discussing it with your wife, I mean. I’m going to need an answer now. I think I deserve it."
"Well… In that case? How could I walk away without giving you an answer? It's a no. I don't suffer ultimatums, no matter who throws them in my direction."
"...imbecile."
Kosnar steps in, trying to right the ship.
"Stifle, Tempest. Dr. Baal is right. He reacts to ultimatums no differently than we would. It would make you an imbecile to assume that he would choose anyone over his wife. Doctor, we’ve come together for a reason. If we could get to that reason without these… distractions… I don’t know about these two, but I would appreciate at least making some ground and stop running in circles. Please."
"I am willing to take forward the proposal. But I would be hypercritical to agree without a discussion when chastising her for not giving me the same courtesy. That's all I ask - and I will respond in due course."
Kosnar shrugs, looking to Daedalus.
"That’s not too much to ask… is it D?"
At first, Daedalus only glares up at Gabriel. Then, suddenly, a reassuring smile spreads on his face. Reassuring, and unnatural.
"Of course not. Tempest and I apologize for being… childish. Perhaps we were just trying to pick your brain a little."
"Water under the bridge, friend. Water under the bridge."
Who's that tip-tapping over our bridge?
"So then we have an understanding. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"
Tempest gazes out at Gabriel without an expression.
"I think we have a mutual understanding - I'll take your proposal to Eden, and all being well you'll have your answer before the morning is out.”
"Good."
"Yes! Yes! Excellent!"
Daedalus claps his hands in excitement. Kosnar stares at Baal as the Doctor stands. Not from a seat at Wayne Enterprises anymore, but back within the black and white Pleasantville.
"Thank you, Doctor - for being so accommodating."
"Until we meet again."
And with the tip of a forehead, because he isn't wearing a hat, Dr. Baal leaves. Kosnar shuts the door, and Tempest glares.
"The Alliance..."
"...is off."
"Thank you."
"They'll never show it, or at least he won't, but we're in their heads already. Now we can tear them apart from inside out."
There's suddenly a fourth voice among the Creeps.
"Tempest."
Tempest spins in his chair, almost falling out of it. In fact, he stands quickly, maybe to avoid falling out of it. Daedalus and Kosnar are suddenly gone. What an illusion this is! Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room is the Showman. The Magician. Montague Cervantes.
"You. I should tear you apart right now."
Tempest's jaw clenches, his fists balled up. Montague only squints at him ridiculously.
"Here? Where no one can see? I'd much rather we put on a show."
After a moment of hesitation, Tempest says...
"Well… no, I guess I can agree with you on that. But that’s the only thing I agree with you on!"
"I quite enjoy how you deal in absolutes. I would think you'd agree that the Chaos Championship is a badge worth wearing, and that pursuing it is far more compelling than the upcoming free for all that exposes us to the drama between Hastings, Rydell, and Taylor."
Another brief hesitation from Tempest. He seems annoyed.
"...Okay. Well that’s a good point too. Fine, you make some logical points. So are you like me then? Holding little interest in winning this… Outlast tournament? ...no, of course not. You are a showman, after all. Right?"
"I am The Showman. That means, while you are right that I have no delusions or desires of being the one to take the crown from the Sky Queen, I do recognize the potential of the stage laid before us."
The studio audience applauds this, and Tempest glares out at them.
"You mean, the battleground laid before us. This may not be the show that you’ve already begun advertising in that strange little head of yours."
Montague waves a dismissive hand.
"Battleground. Warzone. Killing field. Everything’s a stage. What kind of show it is, that’s actually irrelevant. What kind of show it could be, well… that’s something worth exploring. And if you want the same finale I do--and I have a feeling you do--then we need to start shouting stage directions. And we need to start this week."
"Okay. I’ll put my machete away for the time being, as the saying goes…"
He eyes the Showman closely, before finally letting his guard down.
"You’re speaking my language. What have you got in mind?"
Montague strides across the room, clearly ready to unravel his ideas.
"We take back the spotlight, of course. Unless the unthinkable happens and one of us manages to get our hands on Taylor, the story of the show is expected to be how Hastings and Rydell are going to affect the main event. I'm sure now that Centurion has been unseated, his fans will be looking for him to step up to challenge the World Champion eventually, despite his continued embarrassment at my hands in recent weeks. He is the first and only Keeper of a Key, after all."
"The Keymaster of Gozer, I’m certain, will be eyeing the coveted world championship now. But, embarrassment at your hands? Why don’t we start telling the truth, now that we’re on the same page? Embarrassment at our hands."
Montague stares at Tempest for a long period of time. Laughter rumbles from the studio audience.
"...Yes. Of course. Also, some eyes may be watching how Baal acts, considering his Conquest journey is getting closer to completion, and I doubt Incendium cares that we're once again at the top of the Cooperative rankings."
"Incendium… I’d like to drown them in a barrel of 2-4-5 Trioxin, if we’re being honest. This loose alliance the Astro Creeps have had with them has brought nothing but bad things for me. Yet Daedalus insists on maintaining the alliance. Maintain the alliance, T, he says. We need allies. Well, what Dr. Baal and Eden Morgan are too stupid to realize is, they got a demon stickin’ out of their ass, singing… 'Holy Miss Moley…'"
“'Got me a live one!'”
They say it together, laughing briefly, before they both straighten up.
"Ahem, uh, well, my point is, there are any number of reasons why the audience may choose to closely follow any number of competitors in this tournament. But who is watching us? "
"Who watches the Watchmen? You’re a regular Ozymandias, aren’t you, Magician? I suppose then that you wouldn’t explain your master-stroke if there remained the slightest chance I might affect its outcome adversely. I’ll assume you already enacted it… thirty-five minutes ago?"
The studio audience laughs. Montague only stares.
"Not quite, but can I count on you to be on board?"
"I’m on board."
Applause now from the studio audience. Montague turns as if he's about to take a bow, but Daedalus seems to jump into the picture.
"Well, that's all the time we have for today, I'm afraid! Join us next week when Mr. Cervantes swallows a sword... with Tempest leaping and jumping on top of it!"
More laughter from the studio audience, and the scene abruptly cuts to the end credits:
Produced By: Demons Hate you productions
written by: cosmic monsters, inc.
created by: androids 4 androids
the astro creeps