SG: WCD #37

Lawrence Brown lbrown at
Fri Apr 28 11:04:00 PDT 2006

"GET DOWN" Spectrum shouted, emptying a clip from the uzi into the darkened
tunnel.  He dropped the gun and snatched up another odd weapon, and a stream
of energy pulses strobed into the distance, momentarily illuminating robed
and turbaned figures darting for cover.


Foxy took advantage of the light and popped up from her cover on the opposite
side of the wall. Tossing her blonde hair gracefully out of her eyes, she
drew her pistol and sighted through her headset.  The smartgun interlink
instantly synced up and stabilized the pistol with its internal gyros,
passing the results back to her headset and painting a dot where the gun was
pointed.  All this in the fraction of an instant, and then she squeezed the
trigger, releasing a precise energy blast. Her target howled in pain, the
sound bounced off the walls of the subway giving it an unearthly timbre.


As one robed figure whirled out from cover, another dragged the injured ally
out of sight.

Its automatic pistol sprayed lead towards Spectrum and Foxy, as both ignored
the fusillade and reloaded.  A stray shot plinged off his armor, and Spectrum
gestured again at Foxy, "Dammit I said stay down, they've got energy weapons
too!" This last statement was punctuated by a yelp from Foxy as one of the
aforementioned shots singed her fur.

The inherent toon abilities of her physiology allowed her to shrug off most
physical damage, but ever since the hyperspacial accident that had
transformed her from a petite cute cartoon character summoned by Spectrums
EDIT, into the lithe anthropomorphic beauty she had become, she had developed
a vulnerability to energy weapons.


"Any luck raising the rest of the team?" Foxy interjected. "Who are these


Ducking back out of the line of fire, Spectrum paused to check. The armor,
responding in Summer's voice, calmly explained there was no signal available
to establish transmission. Another quick check brought up a status bar on the
ManCo PoWeRarmor reserves.  Even with the optimizations the nanites were
providing he was not going to be able to use the suit for much more than


"Foxy, looks like we are flying solo.  If I could get a signal out I might be
able to raise British Airwave, and he could pick up the rest of the team. But
as long as we are stuck down here we're going to have to fight these
terrorists by ourselves!"



By Lawrence Brown, aka the Amigoid


It was hot in the desert. Very hot.  Archduke of Smelly Feet takes his coat
off hot.

A pair of robed and turbaned men stood at the edge of a field, just off the
main road near a small Afghan village. "Sadikie, we have lost many people to
these landmines."


"I know; I'm here to try to change that."


"The Americans, they will bringing special equipment.  Promising to do in a
month or so....but every week we lose child or a villager trying to walk near
here.   This used to be farmland."


"...and sssso it sssshall again."  The robed figure strode out into the


"NO!" The other figure started to follow, then retreated. "No man can walk
that field and live!  Allah have mercy on you!"


"Who ssssaid I was going to walk?" TDSM removed his turban and robes.
"Bessssidesss, I'll get better."  Before his guide could respond, Trapdoor
Spider Man flexed and stretched his appendages, his diamond hard talons
glinting in the sun. Then without another word, he dove into the ground, his
arms and legs a blur. Burrowing under the surface of the ground, the
superhero traced the perimeter of the field. Moving just under the surface
faster than a man could run, TDSM burrowed back and forth, small explosions
erupting in his wake.  Rounding one corner, he suddenly exploded out of the
ground, cartwheeling.  Landing in a heap, he stood and bit himself in the
arm, the venom triggering the restorative regeneration process. "That....
Hurt.....  I wondered if I could do thisssssss."  Glancing at the guide,
"Missssed one.  Took it in the chessst." 


A small crowd gathered as the explosions continued, but the guide kept
everyone a safe distance back. Soon the entire field looked like it had been
run through a giant roto-tiller.

TDSM climbed out of the ground. Some muttered amongst themselves wondering as
to the nature of the monster before them.  Others, more aware of Superguys,
pressed in for a closer look.  TDSM gave a quick thumbs up to his guide.
"Get them back.  Have them get ssssome rocksss for a well."  He paced out 20
steps, turned around to get his bearings, then dug straight down, dirt flying
up into the air.  A few minutes later, a mighty, muddy, (but not
Power-Granger-ish) hero clambered back out from the hole.  "Found a

The guide explained what was done, and TDSM donned his robes as the
townspeople cheered.  From the well hole there was a mighty rush of air, and
almost magically a neatly bricked up well with pulley and bucket appeared.
Adhered to the side was a small yellow post-it note.  The guide peeled it
off, looked at it, and handed it to TDSM.


"Nice job. Keep up the good work.




TDSM smiled to himself, and carefully folded the note into his wallet.







SUPERGUY... You know you want it...

(email me for collaboration threads and ideas!  ...its time.)


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