Spoilers: Armand

Disclaimers: Don't own the vampires, Anne Rice does.

You loved Superman. You identified with Spider-Man. Heck, you even watched that lousy Batman and Robin movie. Now, because the other comic adaptations royally sucked, and we ain't talking blood, the vampires have demanded their own real comic book series. And since Lestat and Armand together own like a quarter of the world, they got it.

Welcome to the chronicled adventures of the Vampire Legion!!!! da da da DAA da, da da da DAA da, da da da DA da DAA, da da da da!!! Starring Lestat as Golden Boy, unofficial team leader! Louis as Bookworm, team intellectual and decoy! Armand as Brothel Boy, the team's toughest fighter! Daniel as Reporter Lad, team toy! David as The British Snot, team doormat! And what superhero team would be complete without the trusty dog mascot, Mojo as the Pooping Pooch, team puppy! Together they fight any evil that they haven't started, they face off against the occasional villain, and have mind-blowing...relations...with each other. Thrill to the adventure of colossal in-fighting, chill to the daring escapes from the sun, and spill your tears that you don't have any of them in your own bed.

Today's exciting adventure: The Attack of the Legion of Doom!!! Comprised of Benji as Runt-boy, world's whiniest vampire! Sybelle as Appasiosucka, world's worst piano player! And what super villain team would be complete without the cowardly mascot, Santino, world's most villainous monkey!

And now our story begins...

It started out as a normal day for the Vampire Legion. We find our heroes in their Hall of Blood-Sucking, also known as Armand's Mansion. Lestat--er, Golden Boy and the Bookworm were camped out on the front sofa, engaging in consentual activities. Well, half consentual, anyway. Bookworm had been rudely disturbed from his reading, and was now trying to indulge his Edgar Allen Poe habit while being assaulted on all sides. Armand--damn it, Brothel Boy was living up to his title as he and Reporter Lad rolled down the hallway in one tangled knot. They had started off decently in their bedroom, but now were perched precariously at the top of the staircase. And The British Snot was sitting in a chair in the corner trying to read Othello with the Pooping Pooch at his feet.

"Lestat--"

"Golden Boy, chere, remember? We don't want to give away our secret identities, now do we?"

Bookworm rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well. Would you please stop, I'm trying to read."

Golden Boy laughed and nibbled on Bookworm's earlobe as his hands wandered everywhere. "Don't mind me, chere, just go on with your reading. You won't even know I'm here."

Bookworm sighed explosively. "G.B., damn it, stop! I'm not in the mood--get your hands out from under my cape!"

"G.B., oh, that is so cute, darling. I could just--ow ow ow!" Suddenly Golden Boy jerked back and sat up, his hands disappearing beneath his golden cape to adjust his golden costume. "For crying out loud, this spandex rides up something fierce!"

"Well, the costumes were your idea!" Brothel Boy shouted down from the stairs. "It's your fault if they're uncomfortable."

Golden Boy glared at them. "Easy for you to say, Monsieur My-Costume's-Just-A-Tunic!"

Reporter Lad grinned. "An easy to get around tunic, too!" He abruptly whimpered in pain, burying his face in Brothel Boy's throat. "Ah, this spandex hurts so good!"

"Masochist," The British Snot shook his head sadly. "It doesn't hurt if you don't move around that much. The hard part is not tripping on the darn capes."

Reporter Lad laughed. "But that's part of the fun!"

The British Snot gave the Pooping Pooch a secret sign, and the huge dog darted off toward the squirming pair at the top of the stairs, grabbing Reporter Lad in his jaws.

"Eww, you dumb mutt, I don't know where your mouth has been!"

Without the fledgling on top of him, Brothel Boy was suddenly left without any leverage or balance. He toppled down the staircase, slamming into the sofa and dislodging Bookworm from beneath Golden Boy, who found himself sucking on a cushion. He leaned back up, spitting lint out of his face.

"Yuck, pitooie! Fear not, Brothel Boy, I shall save you!" He made a valiant effort to leap to his friend's side, but his foot caught on his cape and he tripped over the back of the sofa. He landed on Brothel Boy, hands falling where they shouldn't have.

"Golden Boy, get your hands off of me!"

"Like you don't like it, I'm just stuck, I can't--"

"GET OFF OF HIM!" Bookworm shrieked, yanking his lover off back into the sofa. "How dare you do that!"

At that point, the Pooping Pooch let go of Reporter Lad, who tumbled down and landed back on Brothel Boy.

"Why is everybody landing on me?"

"'Cause you're so nice to land on."

"That's a good reason..." and the two promptly starting sucking lips again.

"Golden Boy, you had no right to lay with him!"

"Bookworm, didn't you see, I fell on Brothel Boy, I didn't mean to! Look, even Reporter Lad dropped on top of him."

"Just listen to those nice names, Pooch," The British Snot grumbled. "Why did I get the name I got stuck with?"

Golden Boy stared at him. "What's wrong with British Snot, hmmm? If you don't like it, we can always call you by your initials."

Reporter Lad peeked out from over the sofa. "Yeah, we can call you B.S.! And we can call the Pooping Pooch P.P!" He was drawn back out of sight, but everybody started laughing anyway.

The British Snot was about to make a scathing, witty reply that would have left Reporter Lad wriggling in the icy grip of humiliation, but the red telephone started ringing just then. There was a race to the phone, a mess of bodies as they tripped over each other's capes, and then the Pooping Pooch was standing over the knocked-over receiver, tail wagging.

"Hello, Vampire Legion? Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Woof, woof!"

"What the hell? Pooping Pooch, is that you?"

"Woof!"

"Get away from there," Golden Boy commanded, grabbing the phone. "Commissioner Marius, is that you?"

"Well, who else has this number?"

"MCI, apparently. They won't stop calling us."

"Hey, let me talk to him," The British Snot yelled. "I left my underwear at his place yesterday."

Golden Boy ignored him. "What's up, Commish?"

"*boy, if I had a nickel for every dirty joke for that line* Golden Boy, the city needs you! The Legion of Doom is reportedly out trying to rob every porno and adult toy shop of all of their supplies!"

"WHAT? Why?"

"They know your activities, I'm afraid. They know that if you stop having sex, you'll lose your will to fight."

"Egads, how evil! We're on it, sir!" Golden Boy tried to put the phone up, but the Pooping Pooch wanted to play tug of war with the cord. As they fought over the receiver, the cord snapped and smacked the British Snot on the head.

"Ow! I'm bleeding!"

"No time for that now," Golden Boy said, striking an erotically heroic pose. "We have to save the porn shops of the city!"

"They're in danger?" the entire room yelled. It was certainly something to grab their attention.

"Indeed. The Legion of Doom is out to steal all the adult toys in the city!"

"All the ball-gags?" Reporter Lad gasped.

"All the manacles and lingerie?" Brothel Boy yelled.

"All the rubber suits and ropes?" the British Snot freaked.

"All the Joy of Sex and Story of O books?" Bookworm asked. (Yes, these are real books. Damn, between this spec and Switching Channels, everyone reading's gonna think I'm a sex kitten.)

Everybody looked at Bookworm in surprise, then looked back at their leader.

"Worse than that. Every drop of chocolate body paint."

"NOOOOOO!" Bookworm screamed, "Not the chocolate! That's the only thing I can still taste!"

"Yes, and we must stop them. To your vehicles!"

Golden Boy ran to the bust of George Clooney and cracked the head back, snapping the fake spine to open the secret door. They all jumped onto the greased vamp-poles and slid down to their respective transportation. Golden boy jumped onto a golden Harley, while Bookworm slid into a Volkswagon Beetle with a giant worm on top of it. (A green cartoony bookworm, not that! Get your minds out of the gutter!) Reporter Lad got on a souped up motor scooter and Brothel Boy hopped onto his jet-propelled pogo stick. As they raced out of the proverbial vamp-cave, The British Snot got into his old World War Two motorcycle and Pooping Pooch jumped into the sidecar.

Will our heroes put an end to the twisted designs of the Legion of Doom? Will the porn stores be rescued from de-shelving? Only the next episode will tell, so don't miss it!

Meanwhile, the Legion of Doom was busy in the Venus Video shop, stealing every raunchy video and exotic toy they could lay their hands on. Runt Boy cleaned everything off of the bottom shelves and Appasiosucka snagged everything else, while Santino chirped irritatingly as he dangled from the neon lights.

"Hurry up, they'll be here soon," Appasiosucka snarled. "We have to gather up every bit of raw sexuality so those super-brats will beg us for them back."

"And when they do, they'll have to work for us!"

"That's what you think!"

Runt Boy and Appasiosucka screamed in surprise as Golden Boy rode his Harley into the shop, barreling through the door and rattling down the steps to burst out in a blaze of glory!

"Curses!" Runt Boy shrieked, pitching a video at Golden Boy's head.

Fortunately our hero caught it nimbly, staring at the label. "Bookworm In Bloody Passion--hey, how did our home videos get in here?"

While Golden Boy examined the pictures on the box, Runt Boy and Appasiosucka ran out the backdoor, grabbing Santino on the way. Reporter Lad and Bookworm came running down the stairs, resplendent in their flowing capes.

"Golden Boy, are you all right?"

He looked up and smiled. "All's well. Look, Bookworm, they managed to get a good picture of the green worm with glasses on your costume's chest."

"What?" Bookworm glanced down on the video, then grabbed it away. "Reporter Lad, sometimes I envy your costume."

"Just 'cuz I look like a nineteen-twenties reporter with a cape made of memo pads is no reason to think I can't be sexy," he pouted. "Did the Legion of Doom get away?"

"Afraid so. Hey, someone's missing."

Reporter Lad looked around. "Brothel Boy? Brothel Boy, where are you?"

"Oh no, I think he's been..." Golden Boy paused dramatically, "kidnapped!"

Deep in a subterranean lair, Brothel Boy's eyes opened slowly. The sharp pain in the back of his head was fading, but it was still hard to see. Then he realized it was because he was in a cave. He tried to sit up, then realized he couldn't move. His body was stretched out on a strange wooden table, his hands locked above his head in iron cuffs, his legs spread out wide and also locked down.

"Thank goodness I still have my tunic on," he sighed. (And all the readers sighed in disappointment.)

"Aha, so he's finally awake," came a whiny voice to his right. He looked and saw Runt Boy walking closer. The pint-sized vampire jumped up on a step-stool beside the table to get a good look. Farther away, Santino the monkey was running around the corner of the cave. "Appasiosucka, come here!"

The vampiress came out of the shadows and stared down at him, her eyes glimmering from behind her black, cotton mask. "Oh, isn't he a pretty one? I'll have so much fun listening to you scream." She trailed her right hand from his bare ankle slowly up his leg until it disappeared under his tunic.

"You'll never get any information out of me, Appasiosucka!" he snarled, sounding much braver than he felt. "I'm strong enough to resist your vile machinations."

She smiled almost charmingly at him. "Who said we wanted information out of you? We already have our source." At that moment, another figure came walking out of the darkness, someone with a very familiar shape and accent.

"You!" Brothel Boy gasped. "But...how could you turn traitor? We trusted you!"

The British Snot nodded. "Yes, but you never took me to bed, did you? You never gave me any respect, any consideration. Do you know how much I hate my codename? Or how much the Pooping Pooch hates his?" There was a low whine from below the table, where Brothel Boy could only assume the dog was cowering. "Yes, we despise you and the Vampire Legion. The Legion of Doom not only promises a great health plan, they also gave us wonderful new names. I am now known as the Monarch, after the British royalty, and Pooch is now Mighty Mongrel."

Brothel Boy's brow furrowed in confusion. "But doesn't England have a queen right now?"

"What? Oh, well um, that is...oh, shut up! Appasiosucka, he's all yours. After she's done with you, Brothel Boy, we're off to kidnap the commissioner."

"You'll never get away with this, you--mmf," Brothel Boy was cut off as Appasiosucka shoved a ball gag

into his mouth and fastened the straps behind his head. He could only mew helplessly as she raked her claws over his tunic, slashing the cloth open and ripping it off of him. The rest of the Legion of Doom sat down a few feet away to watch, staring intently as she took out a riding crop. Brothel Boy's eyes widened in fear.

"You see, Brothel Slut, this isn't for the inside scoop on your little troop of boy scouts. We already have

that. That's how we got you. No, this is merely torture for torture's sake." With that, she let the crop fly at his legs, raising a painful welt on the soft skin of his thigh. He winced, but he was determined not to let them hear him cry out.

Appasiosucka drew the tip of the riding crop over his naked body, coming up to his face. She seized his jaw in her hand and laughed at him. "You're going to learn the true meaning of pain, and then we'll see just how strong you really are."

The Legion of Doom cackled in frenzied malice as she started her work, never letting up with the whip. After awhile she stopped and took the gag out of his mouth. "Well, how does it feel so far?"

"Is that all?" Brothel Boy asked in a bored voice. "Reporter Lad can do better on a bad night."

Appasiosucka growled and started up again. Brothel Boy held still, not willing to show them how much it hurt or just how much he was loving it. This could go on all night as far as he was concerned.

"Damn it, he's actually enjoying this!" Monarch cursed.

"I know what can make him scream," Runt Boy declared. "Appasiosucka, to the piano! Do you worst!"

Appasiosucka sat down at the huge piano in the corner. "My worst? You mean my best!"

Runt Boy shrugged and whispered to Monarch, "You can't tell the difference, actually."

As the terrible music started to bang out of the keys, Brothel Boy squirmed in pain. He shut his eyes and wished he could do the same for his ears. The Inquisition could never have created such awful torture. A thousand monkeys at a thousand pianos could have played better. Oh, when would this excruciating terror ever end?

From the sidelines, the confused Mighty Mongrel watched the pain coming from someone who had always thrown him an extra bone now and then. Who had made sure he had a couch to sleep on. Who had provided countless hours of entertainment rolling on the floor with the other boy. Mighty Mongrel looked at the doggy door in the side of the cave, then at Brothel Boy and the Monarch, then back at the doggy door. In a flash, his mind was made up, and he raced outside.

"Hey, where's he going?" Runt Boy asked, pointing at the retreating hindquarters.

The Monarch shrugged. "He probably just needed to go out and live up to his former title."

In the cool night air, though, running through the hills and marshes, the Pooping Pooch was headed for home and for help.

Will our hero Pooch call the calvary in time, or will Brothel Boy suffer a musical demise? Will the Vampire Legion survive their lack of sex toys? And what will become of the menacing Monarch? Be sure to tune in next time to find out!

The remaining members of the Vampire Legion were gathered around the wide screen television set watching the tape they had taken from the Venus Video security cameras. There was the Monarch, formerly the British Snot, knocking Brothel Boy on the back of head and dragging him back to his motorcycle, where he had tied the smaller vampire's wrists and ankles. Brothel Boy had actually begun to regain consciousness, but the Monarch had backhanded his face to put him out again. Then the trusty doggy mascot and the traitor had jumped into the motorcycle and driven off.

"I can't believe it," Reporter Lad gasped. "My poor Brothel Boy. Who knows what those nefarious villains are doing to him right now?"

"The British Snot was a traitor..." Bookworm shook his head sadly. "No wonder he loved to read Othello."

"We have to find him," Golden Boy said firmly. "If we find him, we'll find our lost teammate."

"But where?" Reporter Lad started to cry. "We don't know where he is, he took the homing beacon out of his bike, and now all we have left is the jet-propelled pogo stick!"

They all looked at each other and their shoulders collectively slumped.

Golden Boy leaned into Bookworm's comforting embrace. "I knew we should have gotten some real crime-fighting equipment. I suppose we'd better get rid of this tape."

"No," Reporter Lad shook his head. "Just label it and put it in our home-movie section. Geez, I could really use a ball gag and a can of Crisco right about now."

"Woof woof!"

"Wonderful," Reporter Lad sniffled, "I'm actually starting to hear that dumb mutt now."

"Woof woof woof!"

Bookworm looked up. "No, I think Pooping Pooch is really here! Golden Boy, open the front door!"

"Wait!" Reporter Lad yelled. "What if it's trap?"

"We have no choice, open the door!"

Golden Boy jumped up and opened the door to find the Pooping Pooch sitting on the step. The dog jumped up and barked once, turning around and barking again.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Golden Boy said. "Do you know where the British Snot and Brothel Boy are, Pooch?"

"Woof!"

"To our vehicles!" Reporter Lad yelled, but Golden Boy waved him down.

"No, those'll be too slow! Time is of the essence. We'll have to take...the Air Surfers!"

"You mean the dangerous equipment that looks really cool but would explode if you so much as look at them wrong, yet will make us appear even more daring and sensational than we already are?" Bookworm cringed. "But those are highly unstable! We haven't had the chance to test them in the field yet!"

Golden Boy nodded. "It's just a risk we'll have to take. To our Surfers!"

Five minutes later, the vampires were on what looked like three surfboards connected to a floating generator. Pooping Pooch started running down the road, knowing they would follow.

"All right," Golden Boy said, "Engines to power!"

Bookworm took a deep breath. "Turbines to speed!"

Reporter Lad closed his eyes. "Up, up, and away!"

The boards started up into the air and zoomed along behind the Pooping Pooch, who led them faithfully to the lair. By the time they arrived, though, Brothel Boy and the Legion of Doom were not at the torture room. The Vampire Legion leaped from their surfboards, somewhat nauseous from the turbulent trip, and stared in horror at the blood-stained table and piano.

"What did those monsters do to him?" Reporter Lad growled.

"I think they went this way!" Bookworm cried, pointing to a long set of stairs. Wasting no time, they ran up, hiking their capes up like skirts so they wouldn't trip. When they reached the top, they found a terrible sight. Brothel Boy and Commissioner Marius were both tied up, sitting in chairs, completely beaten. The Monarch was sitting in Marius' lap, kissing unwilling lips, while Appasiosucka and Runt Boy were still tormenting their captured hero. Santino chittered around like a stupid monkey and sucked the juice out of a banana.

"Stop right there!" Golden Boy yelled, striking his erotic heroic pose.

The Legion of Doom looked up in horror, leaping off of their prisoners and standing at the ready.

"How did you find us?" Appasiosucka shrieked. "You were too sex-starved to find this place alone!"

"Correct," Bookworm nodded, "but the Pooping Pooch is still a hero, and since he's been neutered, he's not affected by the lack of amorous attention."

Golden Boy stared in shock at his lover. "He's been neutered?!"

"You double-traitor!" the Monarch yelled. "I'll skin you alive and boil you in tar!"

"How dare you take advantage of my boyfriend!" Reporter Lad snarled. "I'm the only one who whips him!"

"You'll never have him!" Runt Boy screamed, running at them.

The battle might have been long and bloody if something had not happened. Runt Boy's foot slipped and he tumbled, rolling toward them head over heels. Reporter Lad drew back his foot and viciously kicked the little vampire high into the air where he crashed into Santino, and both of them went sprawling on top of Appasiosucka.

"What the hell?" Runt Boy cried.

"You slipped in something," Reporter Lad laughed as he leaped at them. "He's not called The Pooping Pooch for nothing!"

As Reporter Lad worked with his claws, blood flying everywhere from the pile, Bookworm went to rescue their fallen comrade and the other hostage. Golden Boy stood across from Monarch, sizing him up.

"How could you?" he hissed. "We trusted you. Now who'll grease the vamp-poles the hard way, who'll fuel up our vehicles, who'll pick up after the pooch?"

"Yes, that's all I was to you, wasn't I? The stupid butler!"

"Emphasis on stupid."

The Monarch was about to shoot out a scathing reply that would have nailed Golden Boy right to the core, but a loud explosion drowned out his voice. They all looked down to see great balls of fire charging up the steps towards them.

"The Air Surfers!" Bookworm yelled. "They must have overheated! That erotic hero pose you did was too much for their engines. I told you they were too unstable."

"Won't you ever stop lecturing me!" Golden Boy whined, then snarled at Monarch. "This isn't over! I made you, I can destroy you!" The Vampire Legion turned and headed for the front door, Brothel Boy in Reporter Lad's arms, Marius running beside the others, and the Pooping Pooch leaving one final gift for the Legion of Doom before he escaped.

Commissioner Marius watched the blaze from afar with the Vampire Legion by his side. "It's hard to believe The British--er, the Monarch is a turn coat."

"Indeed," Bookworm nodded. "But at least we didn't lose the Pooping Pooch. You don't mind your name, do you boy?"

"Woof!"

"I guess not," Golden Boy smiled.

Marius looked down on the small vampire cradled in Reporter Lad's arms. "Will Brothel Boy all right?"

Reporter Lad smiled and nodded. "Nothing some tender loving care won't fix up."

"Mmm," Brothel Boy stirred slightly, staring up at Reporter Lad. "That loving care doesn't have to be too tender, you know."

"Believe me, I know."

"Do you think we'll hear from that quarrelous quartet again?" Marius asked hopefully. "Especially Monarch?"

"Commissioner," Brothel Boy gasped, "you aren't still in love with him, are you?"

"Who, me? No, never, not at all, don't be silly," Marius said too quickly. "He just left his clothes at my place, and, uh, he needs to pick them up. Along with his leash and whip."

"Quartet?" Golden Boy asked. "There were four of them?"
"They have Santino the monkey, remember?" Reporter Lad said.

"Oh, yeah. I hardly noticed him."

"Oh no," Bookworm suddenly whispered.

"What?" Golden Boy asked, putting his hands on his shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"The sex toys and books and videos," Bookworm gasped. "Everything they stole just went up in flames!"

For a moment, none of them were able to speak. It was a tragedy of biblical proportions. Then Golden Boy smiled. "Relax. We have the World Wide Web, remember? And my credit cards go to three million. Let's go order up all our sex toy needs on the overnight express!"

"Woof!"

"Even Pooping Pooch wants to get in on the action," Marius chuckled. They all started laughing and began the walk back to the city.

Our heroes have dealt with the challenges of the Legion of Doom and the traitorous Monarch, but that was just in a night's work. What sinister dealings will the Vampire Legion have to deal with tomorrow? Vampire hunters, sunlight, a shortage of beds? Tune in tomorrow to find out, same vamp-time, same vamp-channel!