Part 1 in a 4 part limited series.
Meanwhile, famed X-Men scribe Chris Claremont found refuge in the Holodeck Training Room of the mysterious alien space craft. Yes! This will be an excellent position from which to prepare my counterstrike against HULK writer and newly announced Marvel Executive Vice-President of Television Jeph Loeb, the mad cretin against whom I most battle in order to satisfy my lust for vengeance! Chris Claremont furrowed his British brow as he contemplated his next move. I contemplate my next move, he thought as a subtle wind from a recently opened door nearby rustles through his bold, white, British beard, returning his focus to the present. What was that? A subtle wind, rustling through my bold, white, British beard! It must be from a nearby door that was only just opened! That can only mean one thing — Jeph Loeb has found me! But how could he find me so quickly when I am hiding out in the Holodeck Training Room of the mysterious alien space craft?
No sooner was Chris Claremont struck by this thought that he was attacked by a Type 3 Subsonic Plasma Blast. The explosion hurled his fat British body into a wall nearly 30 feet behind him, the force of which dented the metal and sent mysterious alien rubble crashing down around him. He soon found himself buried up to his waist in debris. The force of the blast knocked me into the wall nearly 30 feet behind me! It must have been at least a Type 3 Subsonic Plasma Blast! But who is capable of wielding such power?
At that moment, Chris Claremont’s angry British eyes — until now hidden by his furrowed British brow — collided with the eyes of his attacker. “Of course!” he cried. “Who else could it be but —”
“It is I! Jeph Loeb!” the attacked belched with a smarmy grin. The lights of the mysterious alien Holodeck refracted off of Jeph Loeb’s shiny forehead, as revealed by his receding hairline, and his LA TV executive sunglasses absorbed the energy in order to convert it into Type 3 Subsonic Plasma Blasts for his next attack.
“Tell me, Chris Claremont,” said Loeb. “Have you read HULK #24 yet, the latest chapter in my Red Hulk epic, a modern classic?” Chris Claremont spit daintily at the foot of his aggressor, as his proper British upbringing prevented him from engaging in any less polite or more combat-appropriate etiquette.
“Ha!,” replied Claremont. “Do you truly believe that a master of the form such as I would have the time to read such filth?”
“Perhaps if you stopped relying on such lengthy exposition, you would find the time! You should try phoning it in like me, rather than relying on convoluted storytelling like you always do! Then you will become a true master of the comic book from.”
“Only a master of evil, Jeph,” responded Claremont as he reached for his laser sword.
“Chris Claremont — there is something you must know. You are actually the gender-swapped alternate reality cyborg clone of the Red Christine Claremont from Earth-418, who is a writer on the HEROES remake in the 33rd century!”
Chris Claremont’s body went prostrate from the shock of this revelation, causing him to drop his laser sword, his last line of defense. “No!…that’s…that’s impossible!”
“Search your feelings, Chris. You know it to be true! Joe Quesada uncovered the truth when he got drunk with Stan Lee at Comic-Con last month. But he didn’t tell you, because he hates you and only keeps you around out of pity!”
This revelation filled Chris Claremont with a rage that his otherwise well-mannered British self had never encountered. A tingling sensation began to flow through his veins, like feet regaining feeling after falling asleep, and his skin turned a shade of blue-ish grey. Loeb was terrified, frozen in fear — he knew what this meant, of course, and it was as unexpected as it was inevitable.
“Loeb,” said Claremont as his body stretched and grew. “It’s %&*#in’ break !@$# time!”