🚀 go-pugleaf

   Taximan raced through the streets and buildings of Dillweed
City as a carrier wave, keeping a sharp eye out for any sort of
illegal activity.  At the speed of light, it took less than a
hundredth of a second for him to complete a very thorough patrol.
When he returned to base, Mr. Plasma, the Human Microwave, and the
Tesla Girls were still standing in the same positions they had
been in when he had left.
   "Well?  What have we got now?" asked the Human Microwave.
   "Three armed robberies in progress, a couple of potential
sexual assaults, a bunch of drug transactions, five burglaries,
and what looks like a mob assassination.  Any preferences?"
   "I've got the mafia thing," said Mr. Plasma.
   "We'll each take one of the rapes," the Tesla Girls chimed in.
   "Surprise me," said the Human Microwave.
   "Okey-doke!"  They all joined hands, and Taximan teleported
them away, leaving behind a large puff of pink smoke.  A tiny
fraction of a second later, a plasma-powered figure dropped out of
the sky and landed on top of a black limousine filled with armed
men.  A microsecond after that, four costumed figures appeared in
a liquor store, just as a trigger-happy robber and panicked
shopkeeper prepared to exchange gunfire.  Three of the four
vanished in a puff of pink smoke, reappearing almost instantly in
a secluded section of Off-Central Park, where a masked man with a
knife was getting ready to jump out from behind a bush at a young
female jogger.  A few microseconds later, two of the three heroes
appeared in the express elevator of a downtown office building,
surprising a gunman and his intended rape victim.
   One by one, two at a time, or in small groups the criminals
were delivered to a junkyard just outside of town, where Magnoboy
had set up a large cage made of scrap metal.  As they came in,
deposited by Taximan, he cuffed their hands an added them to the
list he was keeping.  "Thirty-seven, armed robbery; thirty-eight
and thirty-nine, drugs; forty, attempted rape; forty-one through
forty-six, attempted murder; forty-seven and forty-eight, drugs
again; forty-nine, attempted rape; fifty and fifty-one, burglary--
Hey, we just made our quota!"
   "A few more and we can call it a night," said Mr. Plasma.
   "Then we can call the police," said Taximan.
   "And then we can call the media," the Human Microwave added.
"This time we're not going to let Spoonman take credit for our
hard work!"

                              * * *

   "--and in local news, it's been a tough night for the city's
criminals, as dozens of would-be wrong-doers are deposited in an
area junk yard for police to pick up.  Wanda Wong has more on this
late-breaking story.  Wanda?"
   "Thanks, Chet.  I'm here with Captain Philip Dunne of the
Dillweed City police force.  Captain Dunne, who is responsible for
bringing all of these criminals to justice?  Is it the legendary
Spoonman, Savior of Dillweed City, Hero of the Downtrodden,
Protector of the Meek, and Media Darling Extraordinaire?  Or is it
some other hero or group of heroes?"
   "Here it comes!" Tom exclaimed, as five of the six members of
the Super Seven huddled closer to the television set.  "Finally,
the recognition we deserve!"
   "Can I at least stand in the doorway?" asked Mark, from outside
in the hall.
   "Don't come any closer!" Kyle called back to him.  "Your
magnetic powers are making snow on the screen even from there!"
   "Then you can at least turn up the sound a little?"
   On the screen, Captain Dunne pushed the Wanda Wong aside and
stared into the camera.  "What do you people think you're doing
here?" he demanded.  "Can't you see how busy we are?  This
department was understaffed to begin with, but with all of these
criminals dumped on us we're going to have to pull officers from
the street just to fill out all the paperwork!  These amateur
vigilantes are the greatest danger to hit Dillweed City since that
giant oatmeal monster!"
   "So," said Wanda, "you're saying that Spoonman is actually a
danger to the city?"
   "No, not Spoonman -- he never brings in any criminals.  These
guys were a bunch of teenagers in goofy-looking costumes.  Called
themselves the Super Seven.  Really dumb name, if you ask me --
there were only *six* of them and I don't think a single one would
qualify as super, or even mildly amazing...  Anyway, if you need a
cop tonight and they're all stuck at their desks filling out
reports, you'll know who to blame."
   "Thank you for your time, Captain Dunne.  And there you have
it, folks.  Tonight our streets stand virtually unprotected
against any remaining criminals who might be out there, due
entirely to the thoughtless crimefighting of the so-called Super
Seven.  Are they the greatest threat ever to our collective
security, or merely a general nuisance?  Can the noble and valiant
Spoonman stop their tyrannical war on crime?  Only time will tell.
Back to you, Chet."
   "I don't believe this!" Nick exclaimed.  "We just can't win!"
   "What happened?" asked Mark, from out in the hallway.  "What
did I miss?  Did they get my name right?"
   "Come on in, Mark," said Tom, switching off the set.
   "Well?"
   "Do you know how they say that any publicity is good
publicity?" Tracy asked him.
   "Yeah."
   "They're wrong," said Stacy, finishing her sister's thought.


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                         DEAD AT @ 21 DAYS
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                          SUPER SEVEN #8
                        DEAD AT 21 DAYS #2
         Copyright 1994, Greg Fishbone, all rights reserved.

  Permission is hereby granted to disseminate or reproduce this
  work via electronic means only, for entertainment purposes only,
  and only if all attributions and headers remain in place and the
  text of the work (including attributions and headers) is not
  altered in any way.  Any reproduction of this work for profit of
  any form is strictly forbidden without the express written
  permission of Greg Fishbone.  Hard copy reproduction is limited
  to single copies printed for the use of the user only, and
  cannot be mass produced or disseminated in any way.  Implicit
  permission is granted to make reference to the characters and
  events of this work in the context of the Superguy Subtopic of
  the Superguy Mailing List only, and such use does not constitute
  an abridgement or relinquishment of any of Greg Fishbone's
  rights as they are expressed or implied herein.  All other
  rights not specifically referred to in this notice are reserved
  to Greg Fishbone.  "Super Seven", "Dillweed City", and all
  character names used in this story are trademarks belonging to
  Greg Fishbone, who reserves all rights to their use except in
  the context of explicit or implicit permission granted to
  Superguy authors.  (Eazy Cheez contains: Cultured milk, salt,
  enzymes, whey, disodium phosphate, sodium citrate, lactic acid,
  autolyzed yeast extract, monosodium glutamate, sorbic acid,
  carrageenan, and annatto extract color.)

  As always, feedback to fishbone@astro.ocis.temple.edu


   "Left, left, jump--  Ooooh!"
   "What?  What happened?" asked Nobody Important, looking up from
his computer.
   "Mario got crushed by one of those flying turtle-things," said
Number Six, putting her Gameboy away on the nightstand.  For a
while, she lay on the bed and entertained herself by imagining
that the stucco-covered ceiling was the surface of the moon.  Then
she shifted her body into particles of light and tried to pass
through the mirror, like the character in a book that Number Two
had read to her.
   To her surprise and great pleasure, it actually worked!  Number
Six passed right through the mirror into a backwards version of
the Dillweed City Motor Lodge, room 22, where everything that had
been on the left before was now on the right, and vice versa.  She
took a quick peek out through the window, now on the other side of
the door, and saw that the entire street was mirror-reversed, for
as far as she could see.  "Hey, wow!"
   "What is it now, Number Six?" asked Nobody Important.  He
looked strange to her with his costume backward and his hair
combed over to the other side.
   "I went through the looking glass, and now I'm in the mirror-
mirror universe!" she exclaimed.  "I've discovered a whole new
world!"
   "No, you've just found a new way of looking at the old world,"
he told her.  "Since your body is made of photons, you can be
reflected just like any other light source.  Flipped, actually."
   "So everything looks different because *I'm* the one who's
backward?"  It was a confusing idea, and in a way she was
disappointed that she had not in fact discovered a new universe,
but it gave her a new appreciation of what she could do with her
power.
   "Number Six, I'm at a critical juncture of this projection of a
vital contingency of my next brilliant plan.  I'd appreciate it if
you would not disturb me right now."
   "Maybe if you had sent me out on that mission with the others,
I wouldn't be bothering you right now," she muttered under her
breath.
   "What was that?"
   "Nothing, boss -- just trying to talk backwards as well!"  She
amused herself by concentrating her form to reduce its size to an
inch tall, so that she could explore the space under one of the
double beds as if it were a large cavern.  It was a grand
adventure, navigating the maze of discarded clothing and fast-food
wrappers, chasing off giant cockroaches, and finding a genuine
treasure -- an earring that somebody else had long since given up
hope of ever finding.
   Number Six examined her reflection in the golden metal, and
then entered the reflection to find herself in a world where
everything was tinted gold.  She flew around the room, twirling
her photons around in a swirling pattern through the golden air.
She somehow managed to shift her perspective to see the room as it
actually was, as it had always been, and realized that it was her
photons that had changed, giving off golden light instead of
white.  By merely thinking about it, she was able to shift to red,
then blue, then a kaleidoscope of colors so random that it made
her dizzy.  Then green, which gave her an idea for a new
experiment.
   Nobody Important did not notice when Number Six contracted into
a point and seemed to disappear.  Nor did he notice when the
Gameboy activated itself and started running a character that
looked amazingly like Number Six through an opening level of
"Super Mario World".  He did not even notice when the Gameboy
switched itself back off and the television turned on to _Star
Trek: The Next Generation_.  On the screen, which Nobody Important
was not watching, Number Six sat in the captain's seat on the
bridge, giving her orders to the rest of the crew as Jean-Luc
Picard brought her a snack tray and offered to shine her shoes.
   Nobody Important did, however, notice when Number Six appeared
on the screen of his PowerPC, pushing aside the graph he was
working on and tapping on the glass from the inside.  "Gah!" he
exclaimed, jumping backward in surprise.
   "Sorry to disturb you, boss.  Just thought you might be
interested in this..."  She did a little dance across the screen.
   "Yes, I have to admit that you've piqued my interest."  He
touched the screen where her image was, and she giggled as if she
had been tickled.  "How are you able to take control of a computer
using visual light?"
   "Oh, I can't affect the computer at all, but I can make you see
whatever I want on the screen," she explained, reaching up to pull
down the file menu and then letting it snap back up like a window-
shade.  "The display is just a single beam of light that can be
filtered and controlled any way I want!  Neat, huh?"
   "Very...  Computer screens, television screens, surveillance
cameras--  This could be an extremely useful talent indeed!  I
must incorporate it into my next plan."
   "You mean you're finally going to send me on a mission?"
   "Of course.  You just have to have a little patience, Number
Six."
   On the screen, she crossed her arms and began to tap her foot
against the trashcan icon.  "Patience is a rare commodity when you
only have two weeks left to live.  But at least I'm not the type
of person who gets bored easily."
   "Good.  Now do you think you could bring that graph back?"
   "Yeah, sure.  Here you go, boss."
   Nobody Important continued fine tuning the smallest details of
his latest cunning plan, and Number Six sat in the corner of his
screen, looking on.  Every once in a while she would steal the
cursor and bounce it around like a racquetball, but most of the
time she just watched, fascinated by what he was planning to have
her do.

WHAT IS NOBODY IMPORTANT PLANNING TO HAVE NUMBER SIX DO?

HOW WILL THE SUPER SEVEN RECOVER FROM THEIR LATEST PUBLICITY DEFEAT?

ARE THEY REALLY GOING TO USE LAUREL'S ROOM AS A SECRET BASE?

Find out next week, same SUPERGUY place, same SUPERGUY channel!

--
Greg Fishbone                                  fishbone@astro.ocis.temple.edu

   "As you can see, Your Honor, I have no eyebrows."
           --Defendant on "The People's Court" responding to Judge Wopner's
             question: "What seems to be the problem, ma'am?"