🚀 go-pugleaf

     R'lla laughed and poured more of the mineral water into a glass for Alec.
"So then what happened?" she asked.
     "Well," the old man said, "I'd like to say that I reacted with the calm
nature of a Xolchipalian officer, but at that point my primary thoughts had
turned to bladder control.  I began to panic, and so I followed the directions
of the Lioness.  I dropped my Tihorn."
     "Dropped it?"
     "Yes.  I was young, and it was my first mission.  I dropped it, having
forgotten that I had primed it already.  The tooth end hit the ground and
detonated into a Xolchapulse right into the ground.  The shock knocked the
renegades over, and Lieutenant Buster Crabb (Coincidence) was able to throw
himself into the air and round them up.  All but the Lioness, who was running
back to her Turdian shuttle."
     "What happened to her?"
     "Well, the Xolchapulse had thrown my Tihorn into the air.  I was helpless
to stop her from running... and then my Tihorn fell back to the planet, landing
on her head."
     "No!" R'lla laughed again.
     "Oh yes.  I was commended for original thinking, though Lieutenant Crabb
censured me for not following procedure."  Alec smiled.  "It was then that I
learned that how your actions are perceived means more to more people than what
those actions actually were."
     R'lla smiled.  She liked the old man a lot.  She liked taking with him.
It helped her to put what she and M'yet were doing.
     Which the old man hadn't ever really asked about, oddly enough.
     "Well, I am not as young as I used to be," Alec said, rising.  "I believe
I shall seek my bed.  Good night, friend.  Convey my respects to your husband."
     R'lla frowned slightly.  "Excuse me," she said.
     Alec looked back as he shuffled out of the First Class Lounge.  "Yes,
Friend?"
     "You... you've told us you aren't Exdef any more.  You say you're a
Corpsman of the filth--"
     "Fifth."
     "Right.  Yeah.  Um... what does that mean?"
     Corpsman Alec Guinness (Coincidence) got an odd expression on his face.
He absently rubbed his silver ring -- silver with a pentagon cut into it, and a
clear lens set into the pentagon.  The light was catching the lens just right
for a hint of green to reflect off it.  "Why do you happen to ask about the
fifth?" he asked lightly.
     "I've been wondering about it since the first time you mentioned it,"
R'lla replied, as though it were perfectly natural to answer any question the
old man had.
     "What does the fifth mean to you?" Alec asked, his voice slightly
deeper... richer.  The green glint grew, ever so slightly.
     "I don't know," R'lla said, beginning to understand her own feelings
herself for the first time.  "Its as though you have some kind of understanding
I don't.  An understanding I'm drawn to."
     Alec nodded slowly, and folded his hands.  He looked down at the ring
again, moving it this way and that, catching different facets in the light.
One almost looked black for a moment.  "You ought not to worry or mention it
again, until you and I can speak of it alone," Alec said quietly.
     "Speak of what?"
     "Oh course.  Good night friend."
     "Good night," R'lla said gaily.  She liked Alec a lot.  She stopped for a
moment -- what had they been talking about?
     Well, it probably didn't matter.


                                 The Adventures
                                     of the
                          Adjusted League Unimpeachable
                                 guest starring
                                     Healer

                                   Episode #71
                           "Origins Volume the Third"
                 "Unorthodox Biochemical Revenge Part the Tenth"
                                       by
       Eric, Lord Sabre, who has left Trudy in Hell long enough, methinks


                        A Note on Continuity and Content

     This series began in continuity.  It is now months out of Continuity.  And
so it goes.  As far as the Continuity of this series goes, we are around the
same time period of "Yesterday's Hero" #3 or #4.  We are long before the events
of the Industrial Revolution.  Other than that, I suppose I really don't care.
     As for content... it's been a while since an episode of this happy series
was produced.  For those who do not know or remember, "Unorthodox Biochemical
Revenge" is a Story arc that deals with mature themes.  It will continue to do
so.  If creative expressions of psychological, physical, and implied sexual
torture (hopefully presented in a non-lurid fashion) aren't the sort of thing
you read Superguy for, this is an admirable time to stop reading and delete the
file.  If you want to get caught up, the next version of the History will come
out in September and you can get the bare bones of the storyline then.
     If anyone feels the depictions of said brutalities are unrealistic, are
expressions of paranoia, could not happen in this country or world, or
otherwise are exaggerated, I can only wonder what the climate is like on their
planets.


                                   * * * * * *

     Trudy was numb.  Not sore.  Not well.  Numb.  As two of the men in black
came in and began to bathe her -- stripping her naked and sponging her, it was
as though her eyes never saw them.  They were focused on the ceiling, but focus
was too strong a word.  As they encouraged her to stand, she stood.  As they
led her down the hall, she followed.  She did not say a word.  She did not
think.
     She was dead.  The newspaper said she was dead.  No one was coming.  She
would be there forever.
     She was dead.  She was in Hell.
     She was led into the small room.  She had been there once before.  It was
Olson's office, where he had invaded her purse, her diary, her life.  But that
was before Trudy had died, so she didn't really mind.
     Olson sat there, smoke from his tobacco lobby cigarette curling towards
the ceiling.  "Good morning," he said.
     Trudy stared at the twisting pattern of smoke.  It was like a long chain,
reaching for the sky.
     "Miss Unorthodox?  Can you hear me?"
     Trudy didn't say a word.  Dead men tell no tales.
     "I see.  Miss Unorthodox, I can see the morning news has been something of
a shock.  It's quite all right, but we must put your affairs in order."
     Trudy's eyes flickered to Olson.
     "My affairs?"
     "Yes, of course.  Your affairs.  After all... well, to be blunt, your life
is over.  Certainly you know that.  Your life and Dangerousgirl's life.  Trudy
Unorthodox is dead."
     Trudy didn't say a word.
     "What we can do is make you a new person.  Remake you from the beginning.
If you help us, we can see that you and Dangerousgirl lead productive lives.
Surely you realize without us... you're simply dead."
     "What... what do you mean?"
     Olson smiled slowly.  "Right this second, you and the girl are the
breathing dead.  I'm sure you'd like that to continue.  But if you won't trust
us... if you won't work with us...."
     Trudy stared.  She swallowed slowly.  "What do I have to do?"
     "That's simple, Trudy.  You just have to help us out.  That's all.  You
just have to work with us.  Not against us.  You want to be trusted, don't you?
You want to be helpful, right?"
     Trudy stared at the chain of smoke, reaching up to the one light bulb in
the room.  Olson said something else, but Trudy didn't really hear it.  What
did it matter, anyway.  She was dead.  She was dead and in Hell.
     So who cared what you did there?  If you've fallen, there was no reason to
fight.  It was already too late, right?
     "Trudy?"
     Trudy looked at Olson.  "I... I...."
     Olson met her stare.  "You what, Trudy?  What?"
     "Just tell me what I have to do.  Just tell me."
     Olson smiled again.  It was a predator's smile, circling for the kill.
"Time enough for that later, my dear.  For now, let's get you a little more
comfortable.  Do you want anything?"
     "Doctor Blue.  I want to see Doctor Blue."
     "Of course you do.  I'll tell her you want to see her.  She's been most
anxious to talk with you again."

                                   * * * * * *

     When the Xolchipalian Defense Forces upgraded the United Slimy Ship
Crimson Permanent Assurance, liberated by the Greenslimy aliens of the Kitsch
Dimension by Trashman, they added most of the standard features of regular
Xolchipalian craft.  Of course, the Saucer was much larger than the standard
Xolchipalian two-man gunboats, so it ended up being close to a Cutter's power
level, with its Megaxolchapulse cannons, its Antibeams, its hypermissile
barrage, and of course the saunas on C deck.  One other feature that had been
added was the one-man launch tubes.
     You see, the most powerful weapons the Xolchipalian Defense Forces possess
are their Officers.  Each wears a uniform capable of defending against extreme
environments, the hazards of space and vacuum, dangerous assaults, and
embarrassing ring around the collar.  Each is also armed with the Tihorn, a
weapon which looks just like a red crowbar, but is actually one of the most
powerful devices known to exist.  Made out of nearly indestructible
Xolchipalite, powered by Xolchipalium which was burned within the shaft of the
weapon and formed into mighty Xolchipaliax Energy, the Tihorn was capable of
potent high speed Xolchapulses, high impact Xolchapaliax Concussion blasts,
Xolchipaliax Lasers capable of searing through almost any material,
Xolchipaliax Tractor/Repulsor rays, Xolchaprobes, Xolchacommunications,
Xolchapaliax Taser energy, and Xolchamemorex recording capacity which was not
only capable of monitoring the Officer's battle and storing a record of it, but
was also capable of descrambling the signal from Comedy Central and recording
Mystery Science Theater 3000 without being asked to.
     As a result, most X.D.F. ships had launch tubes capable of flinging their
Officers out of the Ship with a minimum of fuss, so that they could turn around
and get cracking against the foe.
     However, it is a foregone conclusion that these tubes are meant to be used
in space, and not in atmosphere.  Thus, when the Masked Bruce climbed into the
launch tube while it was hovering over Hobokan, and the launch cycle was
triggered, he wasn't so much a competent hero leaping into the fray as a fire
meteor who found himself plunging to Earth at Mach six.
     A few seconds later, the Masked Bruce stood up and carefully brushed
charred fiberglass insulation off of himself.  He looked around at the
obliterated suburb block, and finally decided it had been due for urban renewal
anyhow.
     "Report," Trashman's dry voice came over the Xolchacomm.
     "I'd say that next time I ought to jump out a window.  Otherwise, ready to
go."
     "On your way, then."
     The Masked Bruce hurled himself into the air, Xolchaguidance systems
setting a course for Hartford, Connecticut.  He engaged his stealth systems,
which had the effect of eliminating any sign of him on any terrestrial radar
system.  In fact, the only way to detect the Masked Bruce would be to go
outside and notice the bright red fiery trail of Xolchipaliax radiation that
flowed behind him.  Fortunately, no one did.

                                   * * * * * *

     Doctor Blue settled into the chair, and glanced at the small mirror she
kept for such occurrences.  She had to be careful -- the role one played became
the person people remembered, and she had a very specific role to play with
Trudy Unorthodox.  Of course, that role was an extension of the roles she was
playing with Doctor Gray, and the Mega Intelligence Bureau.  The challenge was
to be true to all the roles at once, while continuing to further her real ends.
     Doctor Blue loved a challenge.
     The door was opened, and Unorthodox was let in.  She looked like Hell.
Her skin was white and scaly, with the scars of the implanted probes running
along her like welts.  Her hair had begun to grow back in, leaving a yellowing,
mangy sheen around her skull.  Her eyes were bloody, and they stared without
focus.  Without purpose.
     This would be almost too simple.
     "Trudy -- oh Trudy sit down," she said, rising. Her face was a mask of
concern.  Such a good doctor....
     Trudy slowly sank into the chair.  "Here?"
     "Yes.  Right there's fine.  Do you want anything?"
     Trudy didn't answer.
     "Trudy?"
     "They broke me."
     Doctor Blue arched an eyebrow.  "They didn't break you, Trudy.  No one
broke you.  If you're cooperating, that's just smart.  And I know you're smart.
I have such faith in you."
     "No one has faith in me.  No one ever did."
     "Why not?"

                                   * * * * * *

     Special Special Agent Richard Less leaned against the concrete wall of the
entrance.  He breathed the bitter tobacco-lobby smoke into his lungs, and let
it go.  He actually hated smoking, but felt he had to.  It was unAmerican not
to smoke, and smoke often.  You employed Americans, supported the great
American tobacco industry, and eventually supported the great American health
care industry.
     So Richard Less smoked a carton every three days, and hated it.
     Thomas Kim, of course, didn't smoke.  It was really a pity that the
Communists lost, because Richard would have loved to prove Kim was a Communist.
     It was going perfectly.  Which meant, of course, that Less was in very big
trouble.  It looked like Unorthodox would crack, the science team was cleaning
up with data, and Kim was willing to see the project through to the bitter end.
Everything was going perfectly.
     And Richard Less hadn't found a single way to throw a wrench in the works.
Which meant Kim's status would increase, and if Kim continued to support Karina
Selanova as the Director's successor, Less's chance at getting the Directorship
would go straight to Hell (tm).
     Less had thought Thomas Kim's conscience would do him in, the way it had
sunk him in the Dangerousman matter.  But Dangerousman had left the planet,
without killing the agents, and both Less and Doctor Unethical were left
looking bad.  This was exactly the wrong time for that.
     He took another drag off the cigarette, remembering once again how horrid
he thought they tasted, and how he was actually allergic to them.  He needed a
break.
     And then he saw it.
     It was a red trail, like a comet.  And there was a human figure in the
front of it, panning over the apparently empty field where the M.I.B. Hartford
Lab was buried.  He was sweeping the ground with a cone of red light.
     But the alarms weren't going off.  All of the electronics were missing
him.
     Less knew it was the Masked Bruce.  Which meant the jig was up -- the
A.L.U. must know where Unorthodox was being held.  Procedure called to
eliminate the girl and pull out now, before an A.L.U. strike team nailed them.
     Less watched the hero pause, double-check a scan, and then fly away.
     "Special Special Agent," Field Agent Pawtowski said, coming up behind
Less, "Doctor Green's available to see you now."
     "Hm?"
     "Sir?  Is something wrong?"
     Richard Less looked at the distant horizon the Masked Bruce had
disappeared behind.  "Wrong?  What could possibly be wrong?  Tell Doctor Green
I'll be right down."
     As the Field Agent disappeared into the bowels of the lab, Richard Less
finished off the cigarette.  He crushed the but out, and winced at the horrid
ashtray aftertaste that got left.  It reminded him of kissing twenty-five
dollar a night hookers, and he liked to think those days were behind him.
     He then slowly climbed down the stairs.  He didn't want to look to
anxious.  He just wanted to get his business done before the heroes showed up
and saved the day.  It would be best if Less were far away before Kim's house
of cards collapsed.

                                   * * * * * *

TU:  Why not?  I don't know why.  It's just the way it is.  I guess it started
     with my Dad.
DB:  So many things seem to.
TU:  Yeah, well, when we went on the run, he didn't trust anyone or anything.
     He kept Mom hopping around him, never letting her got out -- it was like
     he was convinced she'd call the cops the second she was out of his sight.
DB:  Did she?
<Pause>
DB:  Trudy?
TU:  I don't know.
DB:  What do you mean?
TU:  One day I woke up and I heard them arguing.  So I turned over and tried to
     get Angela to go back to sleep, but she had to go to the bathroom, so she
     went out there, and it got worse, so I covered my head with a pillow.
DB:  Where was this?
TU:  A hotel.  We had two single rooms with one door, but me and Angela, we
     weren't allowed to go to the bathroom in our room.  Dad wanted us to go in
     their room.  Their bathroom I mean.
DB:  I figured.  What happened?
TU:  I heard more yelling and then some screaming and what sounded like
     furniture breaking, and a window broke, and then Dad was grabbing me and
     screaming at me to get my clothes on.
DB:  And then?
TU:  I never saw Angela or Mom again.
DB:  Did they run?
TU:  I dunno.  I dunno what happened.
DB:  So it was just you and your father?
TU:  Yeah.  And he hooked up with the League of Unconcerned Scientists, and
     started doing all these weird things, and yelling at me, and he'd drink at
     night, and I tried to just keep real quiet.  And we lived like that
     until....
DB:  Until?
TU:  Well... it was late, and I was, like, fifteen, and he was drunk and crying
     and I tried to make him feel better....
DB:  Yes?
TU:  I succeeded, I guess.
<Long pause>
DB:  When did things change?
TU:  Hartford.  I was there with him, he had this plan to kill Mighty Guy -- he
     blamed Kent for everything, of course, and so we were there.  And, I was,
     like, watching the fight.  More fighting, more death... and there was this
     guy, Trashman?  And he seemed so... I don't know.  So different from
     anyone I'd known.  And Dad was gonna kill him.  And I asked him why.  I
     demanded to know why -- and he started hitting me, and I asked... why...
<pause>
DB:  Trudy?
TU:  <unintelligible>
DB:  Trudy?
TU:  ...always ask why.  Always ask the reason why.  Dad always hit me when I
     asked why, but Trashman said to always ask why...
DB:  What do you mean?
TU:  Why do you want to know?
DB:  You asked to see me.  I just want to--
TU:  They wouldn't just let me have a friend.  Why do you want to know?
DB:  Trudy--
TU:  All of this, it's part of it -- I trust you, right?  I answer your
     questions, like trading my ID for soup, and they let me vent to you and
     Olson breaks me down and you build me up their way!  Why?
DB:  Trudy!
TU:  Why, you bitch!  Why me?!  Why fucking me?!  <whistling sound>
DB:  <cries out> Damn you -- guards!
TU:  Why show me that paper, Olson?  Why!?  Why tip your hand!  You want me,
     you'll have to come get me--

BREAK IN TRANSMISSION

                                   * * * * * *

     Trashman thought for a long time.  The Masked Bruce had given his report.
He had definitely detected a standing wave front in the Quantum Absurdity field
below the coordinates Healer had given them.  And now, each one looked at
Trashman, waiting for what he had to say.
     "We should just burn in there and get her," Dangerousgirl said.
     "No," Spandex Babe said.  "We go in like gangbusters, they'll kill her
before we get within a hundred feet."
     "I can imagine I intend for Trudy to die," Kid Solipsism said.  "So we'll
rescue her, but how--"
     "WhatdoesitmatterhowletmeinthereandI'lltakethewholebloodyplaceapartwithmy-
barehandsifIhavetojustsaythewordTrashmanandI'llgobutatthesametimeifIgotTrudy-
killedI'dneverforgivemyselfohwhatarewesupposedtodo?"
     "Calm down, Jane," the Masked Bruce said.  "I know we can get her.  Boss,
what's the word?"
     All eyes turned to Trashman again.  "The word, Mike?  I have no words.
All I have is the fact that Trudy has been held by these sadists for over a
week."
     He leaned forward, cold rage etched in his eyes.  :And we are going to get
her back.


ARE THEY GOING TO GET HER BACK?
ARE WE ALMOST DONE WITH THIS BLOODY THING?
IS THERE HONEST TO CHRIST *HOPE*?

The answers are encoded inside of specially marked boxed of Honeycomb cereal.
Read Superguy anyway.