Low Budget Productions Proudly Presents,
A Starfall Comics Comic:
Swamp Patrol
#20: The All-New, All-Different Swamp Patrol
Continuity Breakdowns, part three
cover: In the foreground, a bald, wheelchair-bound man confronts the seven members of the Swamp Patrol, saying "I thought you were dead!" In the background stand seven silhouetted figures of various sizes and shapes.
By the time the seven friends returned to the borders of civilization, night had fallen across the city and the swamp. The night creatures of the swamp were starting to stir -- crickets chirped, frogs croaked, and birds sang lullabyes to their young. Traipsing along the edge of the swamp, the humans' silence stood in stark relief.
As Frank's house came within view, he stopped the group with a gesture.
"The lights are on."
"But nobody's home," Pete said.
Frank glared at him, but nodded. "My point exactly, Pete. Who would have the lights on if we're all out here?" A gnat buzzed at his face, and he swatted it away.
"Did you remember to turn them off when we left?" Shelley asked.
"They weren't on then. It was the middle of the day."
"Well," Brill said, pulling his mini-crossbow from its holster, "let's go find out who it is, then."
As they got closer, they could make out motion within the house, silhouettes moving against the backdrop of the light. Once again, Frank held up his hand, signalling for the team to stop.
"Brill, you and I are going to go in the front door," he said. "Pete, you and Janice take the back door. Shelly, Donna, Ted -- wait here."
"What do you mean, 'wait'?" Donna said, stepping forward. "We're coming with you."
"And if something goes wrong and we need people to bail us out or go to the police?" Frank looked her square in the eye, and she relented. "Right. Now let's get a move on. We'll send somebody out to tell you if everything's alright."
Donna checked her watch nervously, but couldn't read it in the darkness. She should have gotten one of those watches that lit up, she thought. How long had it been since Frank and the others had disappeared toward the house? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? It felt like an hour. Like an eternity.
Ted must have noticed her fidgeting. "Nervous?" he asked.
"A little."
He moved closer to her and held up his watch, which glowed at the touch of a button. "It's only been about ten minutes." Letting go of the button, he let his arm fall back to his side. "It would take almost that long just to get up to the house, and then that long again to get back."
"It feels longer."
"It's just your nerves," Shelly said, coming over to join them.
Donna nodded. "I guess so." She looked in the direction of the house, where the lights still shone as they had when the seven had first arrived. "I just have this weird feeling..."
Frank and Brill came up the path to the house warily. The closer they got the more obvious it became that there were more than just two or three people inside, although it was hard to guess just how many because they had drawn the curtains, making it difficult to identify individuals.
"Okay," Frank said as he and Brill ducked down on either side of the doorframe. "What now?"
Brill gestured toward the door. "We can go in and confront them."
"And get ourselves shot full of holes."
"We've been through an awful lot of crap already, Frank."
Frank frowned. "I know. Personally, I'm getting a little sick of it."
"Hey, it was your idea to come up here. Besides, Janice and Pete are out back at your suggestion, remember? Are we supposed to just abandon them to whoever's taken up residence in your house?"
In the distance, an owl hooted. "I guess you're right," Frank said. "Let's ge--"
Before he could finish his sentence, Frank found himself being lifted up by his throat and jaw. A glance over at Brill saw that he was in a similar situation. The hands that held them both were attached to long, narrow arms that seemed to belong to no one, or rather, that stretched over the rooftop and out of sight.
Frank and Brill were pulled up by the hands, over the rooftop to the other side of the house, and through an open window into Frank's living room, where they were deposited unceremoniously on the floor.
"Caught these two sneakin' around outside, Professor. I -- hey! Armory! Brilliance!"
Frank looked up at the speaker, a man with inky black skin that seemed to swirl with rainbow colours in some places. His arms were slowly shrinking back to their proper length, and other than that he seemed normally proportioned.
"Who are you?" Frank asked, while at the same time Brill asked, "How do you know my name?"
Their strange captor raised an eyebrow -- well over an inch past the top of his head. In a different situation, the sight might have been comical.
"What do ya mean how do I who am I? How do I know your name? You're only two of the original members of the Swamp Patrol. Jeez!" His neck craned around the door and down the hall. "Hey Professor! Guys! Get in here quick!"
Brill reached for his crossbow, only to discover he must have dropped it outside the house.
"What is it, Oilslick?" A wheelchair-bound, balding man rolled into the room. "We were in the middle of -- Brilliance! Armory!"
Frank stood up, slowly. "Inspector Carruthers?"
"Are you well, Armory?" the bald man asked. "I have not been an Inspector for some time. Why, even when I founded the Swamp Patrol my law enforcement days were long behind me, put to an end by the discovery that I was Paragene Active."
"You... I mean... what?"
Brill stood as well. "What's going on?"
Before Professor Carruthers could produce an answer, the sound of some sort of skirmish errupted in the hall. The man called Oilslick stuck his head out again, followed by his arms, and the sounds faded. Soon, four more individuals entered the room.
"Pete! Janice!" Frank rushed over to his friends. "Are you guys okay?"
Janice shrugged him off, while Pete nodded, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah... got jumped by these two." He indicated the other two people who had entered the room, a lithe albino man with long hair and a woman who appeared to be coated in gold.
"Jeez, Whiteout!" Oilslick exclaimed. "Didn't ya recognize Ninja and Deerfoot? Don't ya read the papers?"
The albino man dusted himself off and glared at Oilslick. "As you well know, obsidian one, I have only been on your world for a few of your months. So no, I have not had the chance to assimilate the content of your periodicals."
"Hey, you leave my periodicals out of this!"
Professor Carruthers wheeled into the middle of the group, holding up his hands. "Now, this has all been very sudden and surprising," he said calmly. "Perhaps it is best if we let Armory and the others tell us their story."
Brill regarded the wheelchair-bound man with incredulity. "Our story. *We* should tell *you* our story. Why don't you tell us who you are and why you're skulking around Frank's house?"
The golden woman crossed her arms. "We are hardly skulking. We live here."
Frank turned to her. "You *what*?"
"After you disappeared fighting the sea monster known as Kraken," Professor Carruthers began, "I feared you may be dead, and began recruiting new members of the Swamp Patrol so that our struggle for understanding between Paragene Actives and normal humans could continue."
"You wanna run that by me again?" Pete said.
"Now, as I see, at least some of you managed to survive that battle. Tell me, Armory, are the others with you?"
"Look," Frank said. "I don't know why you keep calling me Armory, but if by 'others' you mean Donna, Shelley, and Ted, then yes, they're outside."
The golden woman's eyes widened. "Did you say Ted?"
Frank nodded.
"So the famous warrior Arsenal still lives," Whiteout said. "I have longed to test my mettle against such a fitting opponent."
Professor Carruthers turned to the albino. "This is no time for your machismo, Whiteout," he said angrily. Then, to Frank, he said, "Your brother is with you? Is he free of the influence of Redemption and his Disciples of Evil?"
"What? Yes. Disciples of Evil?"
"It is obvious that your battle has left your memory damaged in some way," said Proffessor Carruthers. "Oilslick, Goldrush, go out and find the others and bring them back while I prepare to probe their minds."
Frank started forward.
"Oh, and Oilslick," the Professor continued, "I mean *all* of you."
Oilslick nodded, and he began to slide from the room as the woman called Goldrush left so quickly she almost seemed to vanish.
"'Probe our minds?'" Frank asked.
"Yes. To rectify whatever damage your memories have suffered. Whiteout and the others shall remain here in case I trigger any mental traps left by the Kraken while conducting the repairs." Before anyone could answer, the Professor and Whiteout had left the room, locking the door behind them.
Frank. Donna. Janice. Brilliance. Pete. Ted. Shelly.
Armory. Doppelgänger. Deerfoot. Spear. Ninja. Arsenal. Index.
The damage done to your minds and memories has been extensive. I may not be able to fix it all, but I shall do my best.
I am Professor Carruthers, your mentor. When the Mayor made a move to arrest and incarcerate all Paragene Actives in Allentown, I took it upon myself to save you seven. Since then we have fought for a better understanding between normal humans and Paragene Actives worldwide. Unfortunately, this has required putting your lives in jeopardy on more than one occasion, and when your ship sank in the Atlantic while you were trying to protect the Eastern Seaboard from the Kraken, I feared the worst.
I feared that you had died.
But the struggle for tolerance is an ongoing one, and so I sought out new Paragene Actives to fill the shoes of the Swamp Patrol. Now, with your return, our force against corruption and hatred will be stronger than ever. If I can repair the damage you have suffered.
"So what did you say your name was again?" Shelly asked.
"Oilslick. You guys really don't remember any of this?"
Shelly shook her head.
"I don't believe it. You're Index! How could Index have forgotten everything?"
"Armory."
"Stop calling me that. My name is Frank."
"Your name does not matter," the albino said. "It is only what you are called that matters."
"Ted, I..."
"Do I know you?"
The golden woman looked at her feet. "You should. We... we were..."
"You don't remember fighting the Kraken? What about Hobbes the Leviathan?"
"Who the what now?"
"Swamp Patrol assemble!"
Professor Carruthers wheeled his way into the room where the Swamp Patrollers, both old and new, had gathered. He was wearing a bowler, which he adjusted periodically as he spoke.
"Swamp Patrollers," he said. "I have bad news. The psychic damage that has been done is even greater than I feared. As such, it will take an even longer time than I had anticipated, even with the assistance of the Cerebral Bowler."
"So what, you want them to sit around while you work on it?" Oilslick asked. "Hardly seems hospitable, Professor."
"I agree, Oilslick. Why don't you take them out on the town tonight? I'm sure you could all use some relaxation."
"Excuse me," Shelly said, "but some of us here are under age."
"No problem." Oilslick took her by the wrist and started to lead her out of the room. "You think we can fight would-be world conquerors but we can't whip up a fake ID? Lemme introduce you to a friend of ours."
In the basement -- something which Frank's place didn't actually have -- Oilslick introduced the team to a solitary Native American sitting cross-legged on the floor.
"This is Gatecrasher," he said. "He doesn't say much, but give him thirty minutes and he can get you in anywhere."
The club was rockin'.
"I don't remember any place like this in Allentown." Frank had to raise his voice just to let Shelly hear him.
"It seems there's a lot of things we don't remember," she replied. "Come on, let's see if we can find a booth where things are a bit quieter."
On the far side of the bar from the dance floor the music wasn't as loud and Frank thought he could hear himself think if he really put his mind to it. He ordered a water from a passing waitress and sat down in an empty booththat Shelly had claimed for the two of them.
"So do you really believe this Professor Carruthers character?" he asked.
Shelly sighed. "I don't know what to believe. I mean, he *looks* like Inspector Carruthers, doesn't he?"
"Except for the baldness and the wheelchair, yes."
"So maybe... maybe this explains what's been happening lately. That bank robbery, those mole-men..."
"But I *remember* those things. I don't remember banding together to help ease tensions between Paragene Actives and normal humans. I don't remember battling anything called the Kraken."
The waitress came by with the water, and Shelly ordered a Diet Coke. Frank waited until she had left again before he kept talking.
"And I *don't* remember any group called the Disciples of Evil. I *do* remember Redemption and his Disciples, but they weren't the Paragene Active terrorists Professor Carruthers made them out to be."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure! Because if I'm not sure I might as well just admit that I'm crazy and I ought to be locked up in the nuthouse."
Once they'd returned from the club, Carruthers gathered them all in the living room for a meeting.
"I don't buy this," Janice said.
"What do you mean, Deerfoot?"
"I mean I don't buy this whole thing. I don't buy you or this 'peace and acceptance' crap, and I sure don't buy the story you've been trying to sell us."
The Professor nodded. "And that's entirely understandable. Were I in your position, I would no doubt feel likewise."
The entire south wall of the building exploded, raining debris on everyone inside.
"What the Hell?" Frank shouted as he and his friends dove for cover while the 'new' Swamp Patrol turned to face their assailants.
A tall man with greying hair and wearing a tight, white spandex outfit with a red 'R' emblazoned on his chest strode into the room, flanked by a group of people wearing similar, but colour-reversed, costumes with 'D' emblazoned on their chests. "So, Professor, you thought you were rid of us once and for all?"
"Redemption," hissed the Professor.
Frank and Donna exchanged glances. That sure didn't look like the Redemption they remembered.
"Indeed. And as you can see, my Disciples of Evil are more than prepared for your replacement Patrol. You are weak and outnumbered."
"Enough talk." Whiteout unsheathed a sword which had not been there a moment before. "Let us fight, if you are so confident."
And the battle was joined.
In the hallway, the seven original Swampers stood, listening to the sounds of fighting.
"We should help them," Donna said.
"By getting in the way?" Frank said. "They're throwing around more firepower than I even want to think about in there."
"Then why isn't any of it coming through the wall? Or at least the door?" Shelly asked.
"The Professor probably designed this house to withstand these sorts of things," Brill answered.
Frank took exception to that. "Excuse me? The *Professor* probably designed this house? This is *my* house we're talking about."
"Look around, Frank." Brill gestured at the house in general. "The house we left to investigate the earthquakes was your house. *This* is something else entirely."
"Doesn't explain why they could break through the exterior wall and not the interior one," muttered Ted.
"I'd guess it's because they were focused on breaking in then, but right now anything hitting the wall is just an accident. So they're less likely to concentrate their attacks in one location or look for weak spots."
"Excuse me," Janice interjected. "But could anybody here answer one question for me?"
"Shoot."
"What the Hell is going on? Who are these people, why are they living in Frank's house, and... and.. and...!"
"Umm, no," Bril1 said.
"Not really," added Frank.
"Search me," said Donna.
Pete smiled. "I've got an idea about it."
"What is it?"
"Well," he began. "You see--"
And then the interior wall exploded into rubble as well, a shower of pieces small and large that knocked the whole team to the ground, burying them in a claustrophobic darkness.