[SOL Bridge. Mike is standing and watching Tom, Crow, and Gypsy with a wary eye. The bots, for their part, seem to be weaving back and forth slightly, as though under the influence.]

 Mike: Hi, everybody, and welcome to the Satellite of Love. I'm Mike Nelson, and these are my robots, and right now we're hurtling across the galaxy at incredible speeds, in an effort to escape the evil Pearl Forrester, who imprisoned us on a future Earth where apes evolved from men.

 Tom: And I gotta tell ya, travelling at these speeds is having some pretty strange effects on us bots, Mike.

 Mike: Really? Like what?

 Crow: Well, it actually progresses in stages, Mike. In stage one, you start hearing things--what? No, I can't do that, Servo. I don't think we even have a chainsaw.

 Tom: But my legs won't go bend that way! Wait a minute--I don't even have legs!

 Gypsy: Sorry, Mike, but the chicken puppet's in the dryer.

 Tom: But anyway, stage two is when talking you garbled all start.

 Crow: Speech, really it follow yes your to confusing becomes.

 Gypsy: People to crazy drive you listening can.

 Tom: Quickly, passes luckily this. Then you get into the next stage, which is the...um, the...um...the...

 Crow: That...um, thing that you do, with the, um...where you can't, um, you know...

 Mike: OK, guys, I think I get the picture. Any idea how long it takes for this to pass?

 [None of the bots say anything.]

 Mike: Guys?

 Tom: We're.....in.....the.....fi.....nal.....stage.....now.....Mike.

 Crow: The.....talk.....ing.....slow.....ly.....stage.

 Mike: Ah. Well, we've got commercial sign, so I'll leave you to it. [He taps a yellow flashing light on the console.]

 Magic Voice: Com.....mer.....cial.....sign.....now.

 [Johnny Depp is standing in front of a white background. He's holding an egg. He says, "This is your brain." He then holds up a fried egg, and says, "This is your brain on drugs." He sets a slice of canadian bacon on top of it, and says, "This is your brain on drugs and alcohol." He then puts it all into an English muffin, and says, "And this is on sale for only 59 cents at McDonalds this week," and digs in. With his mouth full, he says, "Any questions?"]

 [SOL Bridge. Tom and Crow are standing there, talking.]

 Crow: So can I have all of your candy bars? Just say "no" if you don't want me to.

 [Tom just stands there.]

 Crow: OK, cool. So can I have your collection of 1962 baseball cards? Just say "no" if you don't want me to.

 [Tom just stands there.]

 Crow: OK, cool.

 Tom: No.....fair.....Crow.....just....be.....cause.....you.....start.....ed.....talk.....ing..... quick.....ly.....first.....

 Crow: So can I give you an Indian rub? Just say "no" if you don't want me to. OK, cool--

 Tom: Not so fast, golden boy! I'm back to full speed again, and I'm going to make you eat that net of yours!

 [He starts to move towards Crow, but Mike races on screen and interrupts as the red light flashes.]

 Mike: Hold on, guys! We've got a distress call in sector 14! We've got to respond to it!

 Tom: Don't be such a doofus, Mike. It's probaly just Pearl, trying to trick us into finding her so she can take control of the ship again and send us bad movies.

 Mike (in full-on Shatner mode): We've...got to take...that chance. Crow--give me full power!

 Crow: Er, um...yeah, OK, Mike. *snicker* Anything you say.

 [Crow taps the red button with his nose.]

 [Deep space. Bobo and Pearl are standing in front of the Widowmaker, which has a flat tire. As with other times they're in deep space, they don't seem to need breathing apparati, or anything like that.]

 Pearl: Oh, Mike! Tom! Art! Oh, I was so hoping you'd respond to that distress thingie I turned on--see, the Widowmaker's got a flat.

 [SOL Bridge.]

 Mike: And we should care because....?

 [Deep space.]

 Pearl: Well, Bobo here hurt his wrist trying to loosen the lug nuts, and I broke a nail....aweekago...so we were hoping you could change it for us, so we could go back to pursuing you across the galaxy and inflicting horrible movies on you. *makes a pouting, petulant face* Pleeeeeease?

 [SOL Bridge. Mike and the bots are in a huddle together.]

 Tom: Well, we've been discussing our options, and we've come to a decision. Our resolution is--

 Crow: Bite us!

 Mike (grimacing): Well, we didn't want to put it exactly that way, but yeah, we pretty much can't feel too sorry for you--after all, you have been showing us crummy movies and all. So....we're going to, um, leave you there.

 [Deep space. Bobo has vanished.]

 Pearl: Oh. Oh, I see, that's how it is? After all I've done for you, this is how you repay my kindness? Well, fine! Then I'll take the bed, and _you_ can sleep on the floor.

 [SOL Bridge. Bobo is behind Mike and the bots, luggage in both arms, but they haven't noticed him yet.]

 Mike: Sleep on the floor? What do you--*turns slightly, notices Bobo*--HEY! What the heck is going on here?

 [Pearl enters.] Well, if we can't fly in our own ship, we'll just have to stay on yours, won't we? Now, I happen to have a little something prepared for you--[Pearl reaches into her purse and pulls out a floppy disk]--a little piece of dreck I downloaded off the net called 'Superion: The Beginning'. You can watch it while Bobo and I get settled in!

 Mike: Why, you lousy little....[he advances on Pearl, but Bobo steps in front of her and glares menacingly] ...lady who's about to give us a new--

 [lights flash, sirens blare, etc]

 Mike: FANFIC SIGN!!!!!

 [all enter the theater amidst much hullaballoo]

 > Date: 19 Nov 1996 22:16:53 GMT
> From: monol26994@aol.com
> Newsgroups: alt.comics.fan-fiction
> Subject: Superion: The Beginning 0/2
>
> Hi all, this is my first offering to the ng, hope you like it. Thanks go
> out to Kielle for her help on it.

 Tom: Whatever it was, it wasn't enough.

 > A.J. Mashburn, Ranger 1, Omega Ranger Phoenix, lord of the Falcon sect of
> the Clan Ninjetti, and First among Garth Brooks fans.

 Crow: Ah, this is a new development. See how he plainly displays his contempt for the world, instead of hiding it with bitter resentment?

 > Prepare to face "The Last Horizon", coming in mid-November.

 Mike: We've already booked our tickets to Hell, thanks so much.

 > Date: 19 Nov 1996 22:17:02 GMT
> From: monol26994@aol.com
> Newsgroups: alt.comics.fan-fiction
> Subject: Superion: The Beginning 1/2
>
> (Anal retentive legal garbage)
> The characters and situations described in the following work are the
> property of A.J. Mashburn, and Horizon INC., any use of the authors
> intellectual property,

 Crow: It's the intellectual equivalent of swampland in Florida.

 > without his express written permission, will be
> subject to litigation in all forms.

 Tom: I think the phrase to employ here is, "Come get some."

 > The events and persons portrayed in
> this work, DO NOT EXIST,

 Tom: Say, AJ, why not take it one little step further and make the work not exist either. We'll thank you, and the whole world will thank you.

 > and are fictional, ficticious, and all other
> synonyms of MAKE-BELIEVE, any similarity to any person living, dead,
> not
> yet concieved, unconcious,

 Mike: Ah, so there's no similarities to the audience, then.

 > or on a higher plane of existance (just
> covering all flanks) is purely unintentional. Any comments or flames
> may
> be sent to Corlathsol@aol.com, both will be given equal attention.

 Crow: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here...

 > _________________________________________________________
> ____________

 Mike: We're through the barrier! Everyone OK?
Tom: Yes, but the real pain is just beginning...

 > Superion: The Beginning
> By A.J. Mashburn, revisions by Kelly Newcomb

 Tom: Yeah, I hear she went blind from reviewing the first draft.

 > Memphis, Tennessee

 Crow: Touched down in the land of the delta blues...in the middle of a pouring.........rain...

 > Vanessa St. Williams stood on the rain-swept corner of
> McArthur and Tennessee Street. Running the directions she
> had gotten back through her head,

 Tom: Oooh, she's got an in-skull copier and fax machine.

 > she could already tell
> that this would be a shitty night. As she looked down at
> the shoes she was ruining, she stood cussing at herself for
> not bringing an umbrella. She was at least thankful that
> she'd brought her bright tan

 Tom: Bright tan? Isn't that a bit like dark beige?

 > raincoat to keep the black
> business suit underneath dry. All she could think about was
> getting out of the rain;

 Crow: Heck, she couldn't even walk and chew gum at the same time.

 > she hated to be wet and she
> couldn't stand being this cold either.

 Mike: Memphis is too cold for this woman? Jeez, she must bathe in molten lava or something...

 > Her legs were
> shaking uncontrollably.

 Mike: I didn't know Memphis was earthquake territory.

 > The street couldn't be any darker -
> - the only light was the streetlamp above, but even it only
> illuminated about a foot or two away from its center. The
> silence was incredibly deafening,

 Crow: No, the Metallica concert was incredibly deafening.

 > for the only sounds around
> her were her thoughts of the man she was trying to find:

 Tom: Damn. Talking out loud again.

 > T.H. Brooks, the writer of comic books and novels alike.

 Mike: Everything he writes is exactly alike? Jeez, it's a wonder he's sold anything.

 > No one knew what he looked like, only that he lived somewhere
> in Memphis. She had already read many of his books; each
> word he wrote inspired her to achieve something greater.

 Crow: I swear to God, I will write something better than this crap.

 > Her favorite lines came to mind whenever she needed help.

 Tom: Oh, no! I'm drowning! Got to get... "To be or not to be, that is--" *gasp* *choke* Damn.

 > She was starting to get mad as hell, so caught up in
> her own anger she didn't see the hand that came from nowhere
> to strike her unconscious.

 Mike: In a brief cameo by "Thing" of The Addams Family.

 > T.H. Brooks was heading home down Tennessee Street
> from an associate's house to turn over a final draft of a
> script. His meeting with his friend and partner John Powers
> had been extremely beneficial, and now he knew at least that
> he would be working for another year.
> The rain was welcome; he always loved a good downpour.
> Something about it was cleansing, in a way.

 Tom: He still hadn't worked out that other people used showers to cleanse themselves.

 > As he walked he
> wondered how he might look to a passerby. He figured he
> would probably laugh at the cowboy hat, or the half-gloves
> that went along with the duster...

 Mike: Or the fact that he was wearing his underwear over his pants.

 > either that, or be scared
> to death by the solid black clothes that he wore.

 Tom: Or his stench.

 > Approaching McArthur, he stopped, for he thought he'd
> heard a muffled scream. Dismissing as nothing, he walked on
> a tad, just minding his business. Then like a sonic boom,
> he heard a scream loud enough to wake Elvis. Looking around
> frantically, he finally saw a woman struggling with a man in
> a dark alley. The woman had two or three cuts across her
> face, not to mention a huge swollen black eye. Knowing that
> taking that guy down was beyond his ability, he knew exactly
> who would be needed to save her.

 Crow: Plot Contrivance Man!!!!!

 Mike: Well, we won't find out for a little bit, guys...it looks like we've got a break. Come on, let's see if we can't find some way of getting Pearl and Bobo off of our ship.

 [Doors sequence, and...]

 [SOL Bridge. The MRI scanner is up, and Mike is looking into it.]

 Crow: So your plan is to see if you can get the nanites to evict those two?

 Mike: Exactly. If they can fix our ship, maybe they can get rid of unwanted guests, too!

 Tom: Like Crow.

 Crow: No, like Tom.

 Tom: Shut up, doofus!

 [They begin to scuffle briefly, but stop as Mike makes contact with the nanites.]

 NED: HelloMikegreetingsoncemoreitisgoodtoseeyourenormousfaceagain, whatcanwehelpyouwith?

 [SOL Bridge.]

 Mike: Well, we've got a couple of people on the ship that aren't supposed to be there, and we want you to kick them off. Is there anything you can do for us?

 [MRI screen.]

 NED: SorryMikenocandorightnowallthenanitesarefightinganastyflubugand can'tdoanythingelse.

 [SOL Bridge.]

 Mike: A flu bug? I thought you guys were, all microscopic and stuff. How can you catch the flu?

 [MRI screen.]

 NED: Currentlyweareattemptingtousecattleprodsandbarbedwirefencesto catchtheflubuttheflubugisverywilyandisthwartingourbestefforts.

 [SOL Bridge.]

 Mike: Wait--you mean, you're actually fighting a flu germ?

 [MRI screen. A (relatively) giant, hideous blob is advancing on NED.]

 NED: Ohnowatchouteveryone!It'sadvancingonForwardScoutPostAlpha!Noooo!

 [The blob rolls over NED. Mike pulls away in shock.]

 Mike: Whoa...well, I, um...I hope you get over it. Get plenty of fluids, lots of rest...

 Tom: A few grenades...

 Crow: Maybe a tank...

 [Lights flash, sirens blare...]

 All: FANFIC SIGN!!!!!!

 Tom: Wait, how will that help?

 Mike: No time, we have to go!

 [All enter theater amidst much hullaballoo...]

 > Vanessa awakened in a dark alley, tied to an old
> rusty door that hadn't been used for years. As she looked
> around she saw nothing but a bunch of old boxes stacked on
> one another.
> Looking around once more her eyes finally came to rest
> on her body.

 Tom: Having completed their scout sweep, they returned to the hangar for refuelling.

 > Half naked, startled, she moved her head
> violently, searching for her clothes. Suddenly, a voice
> came from the darkness: "Well, bitch, nice to see you're
> awake finally."

 Mike: And apparently convulsing!

 > From a corner of the alley a black-masked
> man emerged, a long switchblade in his right hand.
> "What do you want?" Vanessa said, her voice full of
> panic.
> "Aw, we're just gonna have some fun," said the
> terrorizer.

 Crow: I've got Monopoly, Sorry, Clue...your pick!

 > At that Vanessa spit in her attacker's face. He
> responded with a fist to her eye,

 Mike: Which was currently sitting on her stomach.

 > and a few small painful
> slashes of his knife. With each contact of his hand she let
> out a frenzied scream, trying to get him off of her, but no
> matter how hard she struggled or screamed, no one heard
> her...until a passerby looked to see the commotion.
> However, he only went on, seemingly ignoring her.

 Crow: Wait, whoa, hold it...this is Memphis, not New York!

 > Finally getting Vanessa's body under control, her
> attacker shoved an old rag in her mouth, slapping and
> punching her again and again until she was totally
> unconscious.

 Mike: Ah, the joys of brutalizing women. Thank you, story!

 > Felling the pain of repeated assaults, Vanessa began
> shifting into unconsciousness,

 Crow: But she forgot to put in the clutch, and wound up completely stripping the gears.

 > her last sensation of a hand
> on her breasts, about to take her innocence.

 Tom: Um...is that really how that works?

 > The thug was about to rip her bra off when all of the
> sudden he felt the overwhelming force of an impact like an
> anvil to his head, knocking him to the ground.

 Crow: And through it.
Tom: Bugs Bunny is...Hard To Kill.

 > Propping up,
> he scanned around, mad as hell at what had hit him, when his
> eyes suddenly focused on it. It was the largest, heaviest,
> densest fist he had ever seen.

 Tom: Yeah, it's about eight feet wide, six feet long...

 > Traveling up, he saw a huge
> blood-red gauntlet, fastened about a forearm the size of a
> cement block,

 Tom: He's got his gauntlets around his forearms?

 > with an even larger bicep attached to it.

 Mike: Now I'm in trouble...Deformed-Arm Man is here!

 > If
> that wasn't enough clue as to who it was, then the jet-
> black/dark-gold costume around his body clinched it, as did
> the huge 6'11 body with a build that Arnold Schwarzenegger
> would kill for.

 Crow: Hmm...let me guess--Wonder Woman?

 > This was the end of the line...because he
> knew when Superion got involved, it was over. Deciding that
> discretion the better part of valor, he quickly decided to
> give up.
> "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you for what
> you did to her," Superion said, with an expression of
> purified rage over his masked face.

 Tom: Here at Grover's Corners, we've purified our rage to give you the smoothest, finest anger that money can buy.

 > Speechless, the thug started to run, but he was
> swiftly caught by the massive hand that struck him once
> before, this time grabbing him by his neck. "Y'know, it's
> people like you who really piss me off," Superion said, just
> before throwing the thug into a hard brick wall,
> incapacitating him.

 Mike: Yes, one would expect that to at least slightly inconvenience him.
Tom: But if he'd thrown him into the soft, cushiony brick wall on the other side of the alley, he wouldn't have been hurt so bad.

 > Then turning his attention to the woman,

 Tom: Hey! Get the heck off her, you twit!

 > he picked her
> up, cradled her, and rushed her to the nearest hospital.
>
> Cape Kennedy, Florida, 10 years ago...

 Mike: Aagh! I just got whiplash from that transition!

 > All was quiet on the bog that day.

 Tom: So I built Cape Kennedy. It sank into the swamp. So I built another one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third one. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one...

 > Eagles flew
> steadily as the dawn touched the trees, their leaves the
> brightest green they had been all year. The hatchlings were
> awake and hungry as usual. Their mother, already there to
> feed them, was about to do so when from nowhere the largest
> roar the animals had ever heard was accompanied by a strange
> bright, fiery streak against an otherwise brilliant-blue
> sky.
> Upon closer inspection the streak was actually the
> space shuttle Excalibur, sent on her maiden flight to
> rendezvous with Unity, the world's first permanent space
> station. Within, an otherwise emotionless A.J. Mashburn sat
> contemplating only one thing: "Damn, perfectly good pair of
> underwear too."

 Mike: The stewardess has just turned on the "Too Much Information" light. Please return to your seat, and try to avoid reading until the story has hit the ground.
Crow: After that comment, I don't think this story could go any lower.

 > Scanning around he found his companions just as deep
> in thought as he was. He wished that he didn't have to wear
> this shitty helmet

 Crow: Eeewwwww! He got it up there, too?

 > -- the damn thing was so uncomfortable,
> he could tell his ears would feel like hell for at least a
> month after this.
> Looking down, he examined the weird flight suit they
> had given him to wear. He noticed that the once nearly
> pasty-white color had shifted to a nauseatingly bright blue.

 Tom: What is he, the test pilot for Depends?

 > He remembered someone telling him the suit would look
> different because of certain flight modes it would shift
> into. Glancing to his wrists, he saw the two huge black
> instrument panels that would record his flight data, and the
> largest, thickest pair of shin boots this side of a John
> Wayne movie.
> Beside him was his wife, Jackie, his only sanity on
> this hellflight. She was the most experienced member of the
> crew, six years with NASA. In the foremost section of the
> bridge was Commander Richard Collins, one of Jackie's old
> friends from the Air Force, and Major Andrea Parker, the
> chief of operations, an old high-school girlfriend.
> "Initiating maneuver omicron theta 3," Collins yelled
> above the loud roar of the engines.
> "Roger, Excalibur, go for full thrust,"

 Crow: That's a negative, my ex-girlfriend is here.

 > said a cold
> metallic voice from the intercom. "All systems read
> nominal."
> At that A.J. could feel the overpowering force of the
> acceleration pushing him to the back of his seat, the sound
> of the engines growing to deafening proportions. Peering
> over to his side and seeing Jackie's incredibly gorgeous
> face, he felt calmer, more at ease as the giant "bottle
> rocket," as he called it, carried them to the vacuum of
> space.
> He still couldn't believe the circumstances that got
> him to this point,

 Tom: And I suspect we won't believe them either.

 > his working through college as an intern
> at Orlando's leading newspaper the Orlando Daily, his
> bending over backwards to get one menial job after another,

 Crow: 'Contortionist' really isn't that menial of a job.

 > and the long nights spent trying to get one story right
> after another, all the while attempting to keep his creative
> writing fresh and new. Then he remembered the story he
> wrote about new projects at Cape Kennedy, the one where he
> got a little too impetuous and tried to make it to the
> launch pad, to get a closer look at the new shuttle
> prototype. A stunt that got him arrested -- and later led
> to this job.

 Mike: NASA: hiring convicted felons and passing the savings on to you!

 > "But that's a story for another time," he thought, as the ship
> kept accelerating into orbit.

 All: *groan*
Tom: Please, please just kill me!
Crow: And me!
Mike: No! I mean, then who'd kill me?...hey! It's stopped!
Tom: Then let's get out of here while we still can...

 [All exit theater. Door sequence plays in reverse, and...]

 [Crow and Tom are sitting on the bridge. Tom looks normal, but Crow looks hideously deformed, as though he'd been run through a funhouse mirror sideways. Mike walks by, whistling, and does a double-take as he sees the deformed Crow.]

 Mike: Gah! What the heck happened to you, Crow?

 Crow (speaking through a six-foot long, extraordinarily sharp beak): Well, Tom and I were experimenting with Pearl's new Multiphasic Text Extrapolator...

 Tom: Yeah, it allows you to transform physical objects into text descriptions of themselves, then back again.

 Mike: And so you translated Crow into text, then...

 Crow: Made some improvements. But we used too much dramatic metaphor.

 Tom: Yeah, like describing his eyes as "steely", that was probably a mistake.

 Mike: Mm-hmm, I see there, he's got steel balls instead of eyes.

 Crow: And the "rapier-like beak", that could have been phrased better...oh, sorry, Mike...still, you can get Gypsy to sew that up, right...

 Mike: And let me guess--you described his biceps as "bulging like a pair of balloons," right?

 Tom: I didn't actually mean inflatable.

 Mike: Uh-huh. Well, don't you think you should change him back?

 Crow: Oh, yeah. We're just waiting for Bobo to get done with it.

 Mike: Bobo? But what's he--

 [Bobo walks in. His head is so large that it requires elaborate wheeled supports, and he's muscled like Fabio.]

 Bobo: Yes, I think this should be perfectly adequate. Here you go, old chaps...perhaps I might have overdone it a bit on the cranial capacity, but I always cogitate, if you possess it, exhibit it, eh?

 Mike: Um........yeah. Hurry up and get yourself fixed up, Crow, because we've nearly got--

 All: FANFIC SIGN!

 [all enter the theater amidst much hullaballoo]

 Mike (looking at Crow): Much better. How'd you do it so fast?
Crow: We kept the original copy.

 > Another Dimension, at the same time...
> Upon entering this plane, one would be blinded by the
> pure light of this place, not to mention the pure
> nothingness it accompanies: vast areas of nothing but light,
> no stars, no planets, nor even a single particle graces this
> place.

 Mike: I would have expected the inside of the author's head to be _dim_ and empty.

 > Yet at its exact center is a sight that no human was
> ever meant to see: the Pantheon of Demi-Gods. The most
> powerful beings in the universe gathered in one place at one
> time, a meeting fated to change the universe if it ever
> happened.

 Crow: As far as I know, the universe has already happened, at least in part.

 > All around him he could feel his brothers and sisters
> whispering and talking amongst themselves, knowing his fate
> already. As did he. All was noisy in the room; if you
> could hear the thoughts of a god, you would feel his regret.
> All wanted to release him, to allow him to return to his
> function in serving the Creator's universe, yet they could
> not. Template had to be punished for his crime, one
> considered so severe that none of them even thought of it
> before. That crime...was interference!
> A while later a vortex was formed in the surrounding
> void. Through it came a mass of chaos unbound and order
> unreleased; having no real physical form, it could never be
> described, yet its purpose was as clear as its physicality
> wasn't.

 Tom: Whoa. Diagram that sentence.

 > It was called Grey, the force that stands between
> the light and the dark, the mind and the body, sanity and
> madness.

 Crow: Cheese and crackers, Fred and Ginger, dumb and dumber...
Mike: Yes, thank you.
Crow: Surf and turf, sea and ski, green eggs and ham...
Tom: OK, I think we get the idea!
Crow: Starsky and Hutch, five and dime, mom and pop, Ren and Stimpy, jack and--*whack* OW! OK, geez...

 > All was silent once more as he entered, each demi-
> god bowing in his presence, for his returning from the
> Creator's realm was the rarest event in the history of all.
> Moving to the center of the group, another god
> appeared, this one a large golden sphere. His entrance
> wasn't as revered as Grey's, for today he was going to be
> judged, and sentenced. Template knew what was coming even
> before his siblings did.
> Grey's words were heard over all of the different
> planes of reality at once.

 Tom: That explains why my Burger King order was so screwed up. I knew I hadn't asked for a Template, Bearer of Light, Life, and Good.

 > "Template, Bearer of Light,
> Life, and Good, the words of all involved have been heard by
> this tribunal. For interfering in the evolution of the
> Realm of Sol, Chronus, and Titan, a world never to even be
> able to remotely support life, you are stripped of your
> rank, and power, titles, and banished from this place
> forever, never to return," said the cold, emotionless voice.

 Crow: Or for six months, whichever is longer.

 > At that the Realm of the Pantheon fell from him and he
> sped across the Multiverse, to the center of life itself, a
> place called Earth...
>
>
> A.J. Mashburn, Ranger 1, Omega Ranger Phoenix, lord of the Falcon sect of
> the Clan Ninjetti, and First among Garth Brooks fans.

 Tom: Can't we take legal action against him for telling us that?

 > Prepare to face "The Last Horizon", coming in mid-November.

 Crow: Well, it can't really be a "last horizon", because what's it a horizon to, then?

 > Date: 19 Nov 1996 22:17:07 GMT
> From: monol26994@aol.com
> Newsgroups: alt.comics.fan-fiction
> Subject: Superion: The Beginning 2/2
>
> (Anal retentive legal garbage)
> The characters and situations described in the following work are the
> property of A.J. Mashburn, and Horizon INC., any use of the authors
> intellectual property,

 Mike: When we find it, we'll let you know.

 > without his express written permission, will be
> subject to litigation in all forms.

 Mike: Somehow, I just can't get intimidated by the threats of a Garth Brooks fan.

 > The events and persons portrayed in
> this work, DO NOT EXIST, and are fictional, ficticious, and all other
> synonyms of MAKE-BELIEVE,

 Tom: Really? I guess I better cancel that bunch of sympathy flowers to Template, then.

 > any similarity to any person living, dead, not
> yet concieved, unconcious, or on a higher plane of existance (just
> covering all my flanks) is purely unintentional. Any comments or flames
> may be sent to Corlathsol@aol.com, both will be given equal attention.
>
> _________________________________________________________
> ____________

 Crow: I get it--it's a graph, showing the number of members in the audience, at the beginning of the story and now.

 > Memphis General Hospital, now
>
> Jessica Powers was working the late shift in the E.R.; she had
> already spent most of her shift attending to a gunshot wound three hours
> earlier. The hustle and bustle of the hall was getting to be too much for
> her, bad enough she was already half asleep from exhaustion. Her
> uniform, which had been white in the morning, soon faded to a cream
> color in the hall light glow, though it really didn't matter -- John had
> always said she looked spectacular in anything.

 Tom: An old tire, discarded wallpaper, a vat of battery acid...

 > He was right, for her thin body was complimented at the curves and her
> figure was perfect. But her face was what really shone:

 Crow: That's gotta be handy for finding your way around late at night.
Mike: But annoying at the movies.

 > big, beautiful, dark green eyes, thin face, full lips...a serious knockout.
> But still the most attractive feature about her was her mind, for her
> intelligence was staggering, at least a 190 I.Q. This made her the
> perfect bride for John Powers. His "living Venus,"

 Tom: Hot, lethal, and poisonous. How charming.

 > he always called her, even after five years of marriage, but she was
> happy.
> Ducking in to an empty room for a quick cup of coffee, she heard a
> large rap at the window.

 Crow: I thought that "The Notorious B.I.G." was dead!

 > Turning, she saw a huge figure in the window cradling an
> unconscious, half-naked woman in his arms. Opening the window, she
> motioned for him to come inside. Knowing her friend T.H. Brooks was in
> this massive body, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
> "Damn, Superion, what happened?" she asked.

 Tom: Standard 'mugger/rapist in alley introductory' sequence...it happens to Batman about twice a month.

 > "She was jumped in an alley by some creep...she was almost raped. I
> got there in time, but she's in real bad shape. Can you do anything for
> her?"
>
> "I'll see. C'mon we'll get her to the E.R."

 Crow: Maybe we can get her a date with George Clooney.

 > Calling a nurse to come help her, Jessica told Superion to place her
> on the bed, and they rolled her to a room at the other end of the hall.

 Mike: No, wait, hold on to the bed! *makes loud crashing noises*

 > For a moment Vanessa awakened to see doctors and nurses moving
> urgently in front of her eyes, mumbling some type of gibberish. Before
> losing consciousness she did manage to hear two words, almost
> comforting, those words..."T.H. Brooks..."

 Mike: I think we're in danger of losing consciousness here....

 [there is a long pause]

 Mike: Another break? Already?

 Tom: Shh! Don't complain!

 Mike: Well, I wouldn't mind, normally, but, um...

 Crow: The door isn't opening.

 Tom: What do you mean, the door isn't opening?

 Mike: Stuck solid, guys. We can't get out of the theater.

 Tom: There's gotta be some way out--I'm too young to die!

 Mike: Now hold on, hold on...nobody needs to panic. I'll just go back and--

 [Mike's silhouette dips down abruptly, and there is a series of loud crashing noises.]

 Tom: Mike?

 Crow: Mike?

 Tom: Oh, Mike? Friend? Buddy? Pal?

 Mike (popping back up): I'm fine, guys...it's just dark in here. I tripped over...what is this? It's fleshy, and...kinda...hairy...and...[he pokes at it a bit, and another silhouette appears]

 Dr. F: Stop that, Ricky Nelson, before I induce severe pain in you!

 All (except Dr. F): DOCTOR FORRESTER?

 Dr. F: Shh! Not so loud! Mother might hear you!

 Mike: But--but--we thought you were dead, and...

 Dr. F: No, I suspected that Mother was going to try to kill me again--

 Tom: Again? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know.

 Dr. F: So I had myself cloned--and it was really quite reasonable--and when Mother killed the clone, I was already safely stashed away here on the theater, knowing that with the Satellite off-line while you were beyond time and space, nobody would look here!

 Crow: But why are you still here now?

 Dr. F: Because I wasn't quite finished with the experiments...I had a little more work to do to make sure that I could use you to conquer the world. That's why I brought you back from beyond time and space, and tricked Mother into showing you yet more bad movies. But now she's actually here, on the Satellite, and I want her off!

 Mike: Sounds good, go to it.

 Dr. F: No, no. I can't let Mother know I'm still alive. That's why you'll have to do it. I've got a plan, though...all you need to do is to carry it out. That's why I stopped the fanfic--to tell you about it.

 Tom: Uh-huh. And what's in this for us?

 Dr. F: I'm out of new material. If you can get rid of Mother, I won't be able to show you any more bad movies or bad fanfics for a long while. So, what do you think, poopies?

 Mike: Yeah...alright, you've got a deal.

 Dr. F: Perfect! [he begins whispering to Mike and the bots]

 Mike: And that'll work?

 Dr. F: It's never failed me so far...now, you'd better get to the rest of the fanfic before she gets suspicious. [He ducks back down, and the fanfic starts back up again...]

 > The next morning, Vanessa woke sluggishly. She could hardly feel
> the slightest sensation from her face as she found it covered with
> dozens of bandages. Getting out of the bed and making sure the gown
> wasn't too revealing, she stepped out from the curtain. Noticing the
> floor was arctic cold and hard as stone,

 Tom: As opposed to the soft, warm, fleshy floors in most buildings.

 > she jumped back into the plushy, soft bed.

 Crow: "Soft"?
Tom: "Plushy"?
Mike: What hospital does _she_ go to?

 > Just then she heard the door creak open. From the opening came a
> beautiful woman in a bright lab coat, grinning slightly.
> "Nice to see you up and about," she said.

 Crow: Er...up and about in bed.

 > "It feels good to be up and about," Vanessa replied.
> "I'm Doctor Jessica Powers," the woman said, introducing herself.
> "I'll be looking after you for a few days."
> "Vanessa, Vanessa St. Williams. Nice to meet you, Doctor Powers,"
> she replied hazily.
> "Jess, please."
> "Okay...Jess, what am I doing here?"

 Tom: Sorry, you had the bad luck to be in the beginning of a comic book. It could be worse...you could have been rescued by Swamp Thing.

 > "Well, you were jumped and nearly raped. You have a slight concussion
> and some cuts to the face, but you'll live."
> "Then how did I get here?"
> "A concerned citizen brought you in."
> "Who?" she asked, looking puzzled.
> "A man by the name of T.H. Brooks," Jessica answered.

 Mike: Of course, he called himself Superion at the time, and flew in through the window, but apparently he has no interest in maintaining a secret identity or anything.

 > "Omigod. Is he still here?"
> "No, I'm afraid he left," she said. "Why the interest?"
> Over the next few minutes, Vanessa told her how Brooks' writings
> had inspired her to start writing on her own, not to mention the effect
> they had on her friends.

 Mike: I see. And after the stomach pumpings, did the nausea continue?

 > She related how she'd run away from home, a girl of only seventeen, out
> on her own, and how she'd come to Memphis, to find her favorite author,
> and how she'd come to be on that corner where she was nearly killed.
> "Ohmy," Jessica said as she heard what was happening in this young
> girl's life.
>
> Over the next few days Jessica and Vanessa became fast friends,
> nearly inseparable, as Vanessa told her of her old home in the Blue Ridge
> mountains and Jessica introduced her to her husband John. Eventually
> they told her how they knew T.H. Brooks personally, a story that
> definitely made her day.

 Tom: --miserable.

 > One day, after going on a mad shopping spree with Jessica, she at
> last got to meet what had brought her to Memphis in the first place.
> Introducing himself, T.H. Brooks noticed the small scar on the woman's
> cheek and immediately he knew who she was. He knew how dangerous it
> was being around this woman after saving her life so many weeks ago,
> but he also couldn't help but stay.

 Crow: She'd already handcuffed herself to his wrist, and was claiming that she'd kill Ronald Reagan to prove her love for him.

 > Looking at this gorgeous 19-year-old girl had an effect on him, her
> figure, her face all beckoning to the writer within him to find a way to
> describe her...but he was at a loss, nearly impossible for him. He had
> always been able to describe anything in words, but now there was
> nothing, the exact same felling he had when he met Jackie.
> The stupidest words he would ever say to a woman were ready to
> spew from his lips

 Mike: And believe us, they were up against some pretty stiff competition.
Tom: Are you sure this guy's _really_ a writer? He's not a mollusc with a really good disguise or something?

 > when the burglar alarm was set off across the street, drawing
> everyone's attention. Vanessa was about to ask T.H. if he could see what
> was happening, but turning to face him she saw nothing. However,
> overhead at that moment, like the sound of a comet, Superion swooped
> down from the clouds...and the life of Vanessa St. Williams was changed
> forever.

 Crow: ...when Superion accidentally crushed her skull with his huge, deformed arms.

 > Earth orbit, ten years ago...
>
> Feeling only that his power was taken from him, Template plunged
> from a spatial rift toward the blue planet, below him. Knowing he would
> die on impact, he quickly gave up hope of the life Grey said he would give
> him there -- despair quickly filled his heart.

 Crow: And unmentionable substances filled his pants.

 > Strapped in his seat, A.J. Mashburn watched as his homeworld drifted
> away from him. Holding his wife's hand, he waited to see the station
> they would dock with on the viewscreen. He never did, because at that
> moment the ship shuddered. A.J. knew this would be his last moment.
> Closing his eyes, he waited for death to embrace him, yet he never felt a
> thing...

 Mike: ...because it turned out to be just a shudder in the engines. Tom: Geez, does this guy assume he's going to die every time there's a minor problem? Crow: Well, let's at least hope he kept the underwear clean this time...

 > Opening his eyes once more, A.J. found himself on a beach, nothing
> but white sand and crystal blue waters for miles. He thought he might
> have died and gone to heaven, but the sheer, stabbing pain in his chest
> told him otherwise.
> Peering to his right, he noticed a strange-looking man lying next to
> him. Inching his way over to him, he found the man had no features on his
> body or face, all of which seemed made of pure light.

 Crow: Gee, my fantasies all involve Madonna, a Slip N Slide, and a bottle of maple syrup.
Tom: Ick!!!!!! Never speak to me again.

 > All of a sudden the entity spoke. "Move from me, mortal, or we are
> all doomed," he said in a dark voice.
> "Who are you?" A.J. asked.
> "I am what you would call a Demi-God."
> "No, I mean who are you? What is your name?"
> "I am Template, Bearer of Life, Light, and Good."
> "What is going on here? Where are we?"

 Mike: And why should we care?

 > Over the next hour, Template explained what had happened to them
> both...how it had been he, who hit their shuttle, and how he had gotten
> them here.

 Tom: And that he was sorry, but his insurance wouldn't cover it.

 > Then he went on to say how he couldn't save his friends. While Template
> spoke, A.J. felt the pain in his chest get worse; he knew he was dying.
> Template knew also, because he could feel himself begin to slip away
> too. After a few silent moments, Template finally spoke. "We both are
> on the edge of darkness, mortal, so I make this proposal: Merge with me.
> I need spiritual energy to survive, and your body needs healing, the
> momentary merging of souls can release enough power to feed me, and
> heal you. We'll be two souls in one body. It is risky, yet the only thing
> that can save us."

 Tom: Oh, I've heard this all before. "I need to merge to save both our lives", he says, but in the morning, wham, bam, thank you ma'am, and he's out the door. You just can't trust demi-gods, boys, I tell you.

 > Thinking it over carefully, A.J. ran the pros and cons through his mind
> before finally deciding yes. "I have nothing to lose from this...my wife
> and my friends are dead, there's nothing for me."

 Crow: I'll go with you to Alderaan.

 > "Then take my hand, mortal."
> At that he grasped the hand of the demi-god, it felt cold, almost as
> though there wasn't a hand to hold. Feeling the power of Template slide
> through his body, he found he knew everything Template knew, what was
> necessary to save them both. Using the god's power, he enveloped
> himself in pure energy and shrank his body to less than one hundred
> times the original dimensions and began the the merging of their souls,
> using the energy release to heal his body.

 Mike: Then, he had a cigarette and cuddled with himself for a while.

 > After the process was complete, A.J. quietly contemplated what to
> do next. "With all this new power, I'll need direction in life," he thought.
> "Plus I'll need a new identity -- as far as people are concerned, A.J.
> Mashburn is dead.

 Tom: I thought A.J. Mashburn was the author. I mean, he's not dead, right?
Crow: No, but his career is.
Mike: Maybe he's brain dead?
Crow: Who'd notice?

 > I'll also need new surroundings...perhaps Nashville, or Memphis..."
>
> The End of The Beginning.....

 Tom: And, like World War II, this will probably go on far too long, result in millions of deaths, and end with its progenitor being tried and executed.

 > A.J. Mashburn, Ranger 1, Omega Ranger Phoenix, lord of the Falcon sect of
> the Clan Ninjetti, and First among Garth Brooks fans.

 Crow: It's amazing...he says it as though he's _proud_ or something.

 > Prepare to face "The Last Horizon", coming in mid-November.

 Mike: Oh, gosh, I think I have a long, painful root canal scheduled that day...come on, guys, let's get out of here.

 [door sequence plays in reverse, and...]

 [SOL Bridge. Mike, Tom, and Crow are all standing there, in different states of embarrassment. They are all wearing dresses.]

 Mike: Let's hope this works, guys...I'd hate to be humiliated like this for nothing.

 Tom: Shhhh, shhh, she's coming! Everyone get in character!

 [Pearl and Bobo enter. Bobo has lost the extra-cranial development, but still remains super-strong.]

 Crow: --and well, I just couldn't help myself!

 Mike (mumbling slightly): Oh, um...yeah, me neither. I don't think anyone would pass this dress by at 75% off.

 [Pearl perks up at hearing this]

 Tom (getting waaaaaaay too much into the role): Oh, nobody at all! And it's not every day that Macy's has a sale like this--why, I wished I had a big, strong gorilla to carry my cases for me!

 [A fanatic glow begins to gleam in Pearl's eyes]

 Mike: I know, and it's a shame that we bought so much that we filled the whole Satellite. Why, if we could take another vehicle out there, I'm sure that there are still plenty of great bargains!

 Pearl: Well guys, I cansee that you finishedyour fanfic sogo aheadandtake therestofthe dayoffbecauseIhavesomestuffIgottadosoBYE! [she grabs Bobo by the ear and races off]

 Mike: Alright, Gypsy, bring us to full speed the moment she's off the ship.

 Crow: Wow, that actually worked, just like Doctor Forrester said it would!

 Tom: Just like it did all the other times he....did...the same...thing...

 All: EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW!

 [The red light flashes on the console. Mike presses it.]

 Pearl (standing next to the still unchanged tire of the Widowmaker): Very clever, Nelsinio Hall. But Bobo's wrist is all healed up now, and we'll have this tire changed...and then we'll be on your trail again. We'll hound you to the end of the universe. There'll be no escaping my vengeance. None! NONE!!!!!! Ahahahahahahahahahaha--

 [There is a loud sproinging noise]

 Bobo: Um...Lawgiver...don't take this the wrong way...but I put the bus down on my foot.

 Pearl: Hold on, I'll go put it into reverse. You get ready to pull your foot away. (She looks to the camera once more) This isn't over, Nelson!!!!!

 PWWWWFT!

 MST3K and all associated concepts are the property of Best Brains, Inc, who we hope will pull out another miracle and bring forth a season Eleven. All riffs, gags, and sketches are from the Starbase Crew, which was in this case Tony Botz, Jeff Mariano, John Seavey, and Paul Hagenbusch. The text of the story was from A.J. Mashburn, Ranger 1, Omega Ranger Phoenix, lord of the Falcon sect of the Clan Ninjetti, and First among Garth Brooks fans. And for that alone, he deserves whatever he gets. For the continuity minded, this takes place between Episode 804 (The Deadly Mantis) and 805 (The Thing That Would Not Die). Filmed in Shadowrama, Thanks to the Teachers of America (especially my dad), Keep Circulating the Tapes.

 > an otherwise emotionless A.J. Mashburn sat
> contemplating only one thing: "Damn, perfectly good pair of
> underwear too."