🚀 go-pugleaf

        The complex was deserted, save for the occasional security system
making the usual operational sounds.  All the lights were off, and even
the environmental control systems were shut down.  If one didn't know bet-
ter, one would think it could have been abandoned for a long time.  In
truth, however, its previous occupants had left mere hours ago.
        Suddenly, the shuttle bay doors opened and a craft shaped like
a minivan (general shape, not exact details) docked.  A hatch opened on
its side, and five humans and two aliens stepped out of the vehicle.  The
aliens looked used to the shuttle bay, but the humans were in awe.
        "And this is just the *shuttle bay*?" Misfit exclaimed.  "Wow!"
        The shuttle bay was huge, maybe about five stories tall.  The bay
doors were at a sixty-degree slant to the floor, and reached the ceiling.
There was room for two ships; the aliens' own vehicle took about ten percent
of one of the spaces.
        "Yes, it is," the alien called Quim said.  "It has not seen much
use."
        Jon looked around, quietly checking out the structure of the walls
with his penetration vision.  "Not bad.  This place will hold up quite nice-
ly in an attack, I surmise."
        "Yes, I believe it will, though we have not been able to test it,"
Nina (the other alien) said.  "Come, see the rest of the base."  She and
Quim started walking to the door opposite the bay doors.
        The five humans looked at each other, shrugged in unison, and pro-
ceeded to follow them.  When they got there, Quim pressed a button, and the
double-doors slid open.
        He said "Friends, welcome to your new secret base."

                                -+=^=+-

                             The Hero Patrol
                                Episode 8
                            "Dressed to Kill"
                                   or
                        "We're the new neighbors"
                                   by
                              Mike Escutia
                 Who's wearing his Suicide Squid t-shirt

                                -+=^=+-

        The fashion show put on by Boureate's was one of the biggest ones
in New England.  Hundreds of designers would appear to show off their latest
fashions, and more than a few fashion trends would start as a result.
        The director of the show, one Claude Van Bun, nervously walked down the
long basement corridor to the stairs.  Three of the models hadn't shown up,
and no one could find them.  Van Bun feared that foul play was involved; he
*hated* it when that happened.
        He was so busy worrying that he nearly walked into two large men block-
ing his path as he turned a corner.  Stepping back nervously, he asked "Wh..
What do you want?"
        A woman stepped out from behind the men.  She was middle-aged, and wore
a black dress that almost clashed with her white hair.
        "Hello, Claude," she said.  "Long time no see."
        "Missy..." Claude muttered.  "What are you doing here?"
        "I've come to get my revenge," Missy said.  "Revenge for being laughed
at when I tried to present my fashions."
        "Missy, please," Claude said.  "We can work something out."
        "Too late, old man," Missy said.  She lifted the item in her arms --
a large, sophisticated-looking gun -- aimed it squarely at Claude's chest,
and pulled the trigger.
        "Missy...no..."
        An amber-colored light struck Claude, but nothing seemed to happen.
        Then his tuxedo began to come to life, and started strangling him in
various locations.  Within minutes, he collapsed from suffocation.  Another
minute later, he died.
        Missy looked over her handywork.  "Let's go, boys," she said to her
bodyguards.  "Our work is far from finished."

                                -+=^=+-

        Quim, Nina, Jon Perceptor, Misfit, Earth Girl, Starwave, and Sound-
byte entered the control room, in that order, and looked around.
        "<Back already?>" came a voice from a speaker on the wall, though
no one except the aliens could understand it.
        "<We had vehicle problems.  These five heroes helped us, and we
are returning the favor by giving them this base.>"
        "<Well, that's nice to...WHAT?>"
        "Um...who or what is that?" Starwave asked.
        "That is Makks, our computer," Nina said.
        "Ah, they speak english," Makks said.  "Good -- I don't like Tefon-
imese.  Pleased to meet ya."
        Starwave giggled.  "Nice meeting you, too, Makks."
        "Call me Max," the AI said.  "It's more english-like."
        "Okay, Max," Amy said.  "Suit yourself."
        "This is the control room," Quim said, trying to be useful.
        "I think the narrator established that," Max said.  "From what
Mister State-the-Obvious here told me, you're the new residents."
        "Yup," Misfit said.
        "Well, finally some excitement.  These two were boring!"
        "Yeah, well, with us around, the party's just begun," Soundbyte
quipped.  There was the sound of cheering somewhere to his left.
        "We must be going now," Nina said.  "The base is all yours."
        "Thank you for giving it to us," Earth Girl said.  "And feel free
to stop in anytime."
        "But be sure to call first," Soundbyte added as the New England
Telephone theme music played in the background.
        Quim looked rather confused.  Max chuckled.  "Good one, kid."
        "It's going to be a long series," Earth Girl sighed.
        "Goodbye, friends," Nina said.  "We do not expect to be back."
She and Quim left the control room, heading back to the shuttle bay.  A
few minutes later, their space car was gone.
        "Now what?" Earth Girl asked.
        Jon turned to the computer.  "Max, what kind of sensor systems
do you have?"
        "Well, lessee..." Max began thoughtfully.  "I can monitor electro-
magnetic signals..."
        "TV signals?" Earth Girl asked.
        "Yup.  And radio, too."  The latest single from Crash Test Dummies
started playing on two of the speakers in the back of the room.  "And other
stuff.  Oodles of it, in fact."
        "Good," Jon said.  "Set up a continuous monitoring of all local pol-
ice frequencies.  We need to stay informed."
        "Speaking of which, there seems to something on the Manchester fre-
quency," Max said.
        "Really?" Starwave asked.
        "Really."
        "What is it?" asked Jon.
        "Well, near as I can tell, some guy named Claude Van Bum got stran-
gled to death by his own clothing," Max said.
        "That sounds really weird," Starwave said.
        "Cool!" Soundbyte chimed in.
        "We'd better check it out," Jon said.  "Let's go."  The rest of the
team followed him out the door.
        "Wait a second..." Max began, his voice coming out of speakers in
the corridor.  "Just how do you think you're going to get there, bright
guy?"
        Jon stopped, causing the others to nearly crash into him.  "I had-
n't thought of that," he said.
        "We noticed."

                                -+=^=+-

        Manchester Police Chief O'Reallynow looked down at the covered body
of Claude Van Bun.  No one had really wanted to touch him in fear that his
clothes might still be alive, so it was decided to just leave the body
-- clothes and all -- there for now.
        "Chief," said a sergeant approaching him.  "I..uh...I think the
specialists just arrived."  He pointed to the door, where five spandex-
clad people were flying towards the door.  Er, make that two spandex-clad
people, both female.  One man was being carried by one of the women, and
another was being carried by the other.  A human-shaped blur whizzed into
the room right behind them.
        "We...*really* need to get some form of transportation," Earth
Girl gasped as she set Jon Perceptor down.
        "Just be glad he didn't ask you to carry his motorcycle, too,"
Soundbyte said from where he was -- still in Starwave's arms, having pur-
posely forgotten to get down.  Starwave cleared her throat and looked at
him sternly, and he got down.
        "Oh, good," O'Reallynow said.  "Superguys.  Now things'll get wierd-
er."
        "What's the situation, Chief?"
        "That's what I'd like to know.  As far as we can tell, this guy
was strangled by his own clothing."
        Jon looked at the covered body, and seemed to scrutinize it for
a long moment.  "Looks like he was hit by some sort of matter-transforma-
tion beam.  I can see the energy residue from it."
        "Ohhhhh, no," Soundbyte said, hiding behind Starwave.  "Not another
Interdimensional Energy Cannon (tm)!  The last one nearly killed us!"
        "I don't think this is an IEC(tm)," Jon said.  "It's different."
        "That's still bad, isn't it?" Soundbyte asked.
        "Yup."
        "Darn."
        "Chief," said a sergeant approaching the group.  "the lab called.
That was definitely a tuxedo Van Bun was wearing."
        "Hmmm..." Earth Girl said, trying to put the clues together.  "Then it
isn't matter-altering, but rather appearance-altering."
        "Right," Jon Perceptor said.  "Now we just have to figure out how,
who, ...and why."
        "Chief!" another officer shouted.  "There's a holdup at the Second
Best Fashion Show!"

                                -+=^=+-

        Exactly two minutes before, the people at the Second Best Fashion
Show, which happened to be right down the street, were enjoying a show
that was most likely second best, but which was a lot cheaper to attend.
        "...and now here's Wilma with a beautiful silk dress that compliments
a glass of Yoo-Hoo," said the announcer over the PA system.
        Suddenly, the door burst open and a woman entered, flanked by two
Large (and male) bodyguards.  The woman was carrying a large gun that looked
incredibly sophisticated, which it was.
        "Well, well, well," the woman said.  "What nice clothing.  Too bad
I have to ruin them."  She pointed the gun to the far left-hand group of
people and fired.  An amber-colored beam shot out and hit them as the woman
rotated the gun to the right.
        Nothing appeared to happen.
        Then people's clothing started mutating.  Dresses turned into jump-
suits.  Tuxedos into straightjackets.  Skirts into pajamas.  [*slap* "Sorry."]
You get the idea.
        The Hero Patrol rushed through the building to the function room,
barging through the doors and confronting the villain and his henchmen.
They were quite surprised to find that the villain was actually a villain-
ness, and that the cause of the disturbance was the gun she held.
        "Well, now..." she smiled.  "It's the Hero Patrol, here to save
the day."
        "Yeah, well, who are you, if you don't mind our asking?" Sound-
byte said.
        The woman laughed.  "You may call me the Fashion Victimizer.  And
you may also die."
        "Give up!" Jon Perceptor said.  "You can't win!"
        "Oh, really?" she asked.  Before anyone could react, she fired the
gun at them, causing their clothes to change and turn against them.

WILL THE HERO PATROL BE ABLE TO DEFEAT THEIR OWN COSTUMES?

WILL THEY BE ABLE TO DEFEAT THE FASHION VICTIMIZER?

WHAT KIND OF NAME IS THAT FOR A VILLAINESS?

WHY DOES MAX PREFER ENGLISH OVER TEFONIMESE?

WHY CAN'T I GET THE CD I WAS LISTENING TO OUT OF MY DISCMAN?

The answers to some of these, and maybe that last one, are coming soon,
right here on Superguy.

--
Mike Escutia | NOTICE: If you notice this notice, you will notice after
mike@unh.edu | noticing this notice that this notice was not worth noticing.
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