Marxist McGown was the Reigning Premier of the district in which the Incredible Tommy's Pizza Empire was located. He was quite a contemptible character, hailing from a land entirely peopled with criminals, and marred by a strange and obnoxious growth protruding from his forehead. There were some who claimed the elongated growth was actually an appendage, but the prevalent theory of the day was that the growth was actually a separate entity, and Marxist was simply a parasite living off this creature's goodwill and blood supply.
It was Marxist's buddy at the local clinic who had first "discovered" Mosestarian Malady in one of his patients at the clinic, and it was some of Marxist's other buddies at the local newspaper and TV station who had expeditiously warned the local population continuously around the clock, all day, every day, for weeks and months and years on end about the dangerous malady. In the early stages, the four accomplices had wanted to name the disease after Marxist himself, and call it McGown's Misery, or Marxist's Malady, but after much debate, they decided they didn't want any more negative publicity for Marxist, so named the disease after a more convenient scape-goat - Mosestaria.
Marxist's buddy at the local clinic had not been a very successful clinician, despite 20 years in the business. Part of the reason for his failure was that he insisted on mixing his professional life with his private life, and his private life involved an unfortunate hobby - the "milking" of snakes for their oil. Marxist's clinician buddy would milk all manner of snakes, and then endeavour to find some means or method of prescribing said oil for his patients. The more fortunate patients, after trialing the snake oil, would find that it didn't actually assist with their ailments, so would seek medical assistance elsewhere. The less fortunate patients would end up dead, or permanently disabled. Suffice it to say, Marxist's clinician buddy had a failing business model, and a burgeoning supply of snake oil.
One day, circumstances came to a head for Marxist's clinician buddy when one of his less fortunate patients, who was also a lawyer, put two and two together and threatened to sue the clinician for poisoning him, and general medical malpractice. Although a poor clinician, Marxist's clinician buddy wasn't too bad of a salesman, and came up with a plausible excuse - the lawyer had been infected with a mysterious malady - some sort of invisible virus, perhaps? A court case was averted, and Mosestarian Malady was born. Of course, from humble beginnings, the Mosestarian Malady saga had evolved and expanded.
"If the malady was spread by Mosestarians, how could it be stopped?" Marxist's clinician buddy had once asked the other accomplices at one of their regular meetings.
"Why, by banning Mosestarians of course!" the others had answered.
"But how to ban Mosestarians without being racist?" the newspaper buddy had asked.
"It's not about race, it's about the passport," the television buddy insisted. "Once one has obtained an 'I'm-Not-Mosestarian passport', the malady wouldn't dare to infect one anymore. Even Mosestarians could apply."
"But how to prevent Mosestarians from obtaining a passport," the newspaper buddy asked.
This was where Marxist's clinician buddy's genius had come into play. "Make them prove they're not Mosestarian by taking a dose of snake oil in the left cheek!" he had exclaimed enthusiastically. When he saw that the other accomplices didn't reject his disgusting suggestion outright, he continued "Or three! No Mosestarian in his right mind would bare his breeches for three of these little beauties," he continued, gesturing to a wall replete with the loaded syringes of his snake oil.
The other accomplices nodded. "Excellent!" exclaimed Marxist. "I will declare a State of Emergency because of Mosestarian Malady, and proclaim a new law - no one can do anything - not even work - unless he has an I'm-Not-Mosestarian passport!"
"But what if they all just ignore your new law?" warned Maxist's clinician buddy. "There are some who already call you spiteful names because of your... disability," he finished, gesturing in the direction of Marxist's host organism, without looking directly at it. "You don't want them to start saying 'we told you so', and 'he's an even bigger one than we first said', and such..."
"If they ignore my new laws," warned Marxist darkly, "I will include a clause to have them thrown to the alligators!"
Such was the world the three clones - Eagle One, Eagle Two and Eagle Three found themselves entering again, as they arrived in Rubyland on a quest to wrestle the Incredible Tommy's Pizza Empire from the pale, green grip of the Incredible Tommy's muscular hands...
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