"Gliderman: The Prequel"

[Agent Thermal]

Agent Thermal and Démon present:


In association with Garble Comics...

http://www.nana.asn.au/images/Glider1.jpg

GLIDERMAN: THE PREQUEL
-----------------------------------------------------------------





Who am I? You sure you wanna know? You SURE you wanna know? Are you REALLY REALLY REALLY SUPER SURE you wanna know? I mean, I don't have to tell it, you know; it's okay, really. Oh, you ARE really sure? You're SURE, now? Well, okay...but I'm gonna warn ya - my story is not for those with weak constitutions or stomachs. This story doesn't exactly contain the happiness equivalent of a Barney marathon. If somebody were to tell you that I was just some nerdy kid who never had anything go right for him except for miraculously obtaining the physical prowess and abilities of a sugar glider...well, that somebody was telling the truth - how he figured that out, though, is beyond me.

But don't worry - this story is really all about a girl...well, it's actually about WAY more than that, but it somewhat revolves around a girl...and that girl is Jerri Mayne Holmes: the woman I loved even before her grandmother was born. Man, I'd love to tell you that that was me sitting next to her - Blur Stompson once again being a consistant jerk. Heck, I'd even take that overweight, gaseous, cinnamon-roll-stuffing pig sitting in front of her, making her think twice about sitting behind him. But no.

"Hey, Peker! Shut up with your stupid monologue and get on the bus!!!" yelled the bus driver, waiting impatiently for Parter to go up the steps - they'd been waiting the entire duration of the mental rambling.

That's me.

Parter Peker slowly and meekly made his way up the steps and onto the bus, nervously looking across at the sea of teenage faces that stared back at him strangely. With a sad sigh, Parter trudged down the aisle, looking hopefully but pointlessly for any seats. A relentless barrage of paper airplanes and spitballs pelted him mercilessly as he searched for an empty seat or at least a seat that no one would shove him out of. Teenage and bus driver laughs droned on throughout the interior of the bus as they made his seat-searching quest as humanly impossible as possible.

Suddenly, he spotted an empty-but-gum-covered bus seat, two rows from the back, on the left. It was the best thing he could hope for, considering that he was by far the nerdiest character in the school the bus was heading for. Parter triumphantly stepped lightly over the multitude of legs purposely stuck out in the aisle to trip him, making his way slowly-but-surely toward the empty seat.

He sighed happily as he sat down - and groaned in embarrassment as his butt slowly and uncontrollably pushed down a camouflaged whoopie cushion that had strategically been placed there.

Once again, the bus and the bus driver laughed uproariously. Parter sighed yet again as the bus pulled into the school's parking lot. The only thing Parter Peker knew he could look forward to today was A)futile gazing at JM, and B)the field trip to "OzzyInc" with Mr. "I-Jest-You-Not".

[Supermaniac]

that's some funny stuff! keep up the good work

[Agent Thermal]

(Thanks a lot, Supermaniac! :D That's greatly appreciated! Démon should be adding to this shortly.:))

[fever red]

I want to have Gliderman's marsupial offspring...
Now, do you cook those things, or just pop 'em in your mouth raw, like sushi?
They taste like sugar, right? Blood sugar?

[Démon]

The bus pulled up to "OzzyInc" and Parter was one of the last students to disembark.

"Hey, Part!" called someone behind Parter.
"Hiya, Larry." answered Parter. Larry Ozzybourne ran to catch up. Larry Ozzybourne was Parter's only friend in the school, and his father was Truman Ozzybourne, head of "OzzyInc".
"So, welcome to OzzyInc! Dad's dying to meet you. You and he should get along well, you're both reclusive nerds." Larry grinned.
"Hey, Larry!" Both Parter and Larry looked up. Truman Ozzybourne was walking down the stairs towards them. Like Larry, Truman's haircut seriously resembled a brillo pad.
"Dad, this is Parter Peker. You know, the stereotypical smart kid with only one friend I was telling you about?"

Truman smiled and offered his hand for Parter to shake. Parter took it, trying to make as firm a handshake as he could with his girlish hands.
"Parter, I heard so much about you. You know, I'm something of a nerd myself."
"I know. I've read all of your papers, very nerdy."
"And you understood them?" asked Truman, evidently impressed.
"Yes, I wrote a paper on your theories for school."
"Amazing. Well, I best be back to work." said Truman, giving his son a hug. "Tuck in your shirt, Larry."
"Daaaa-add..." muttered Larry in embarassment. Nearby students were pointing and laughing openly. Parter turned to hide his grin.
"Parter, Ozzybourne! Let's move!" called their teacher from the stairs. The two friends proceeded up the staircase and into the building.

The tour comprised of walking around inside a large laboratory while the woman guiding them explained some of the more boring aspects of their research.
"And here, we are performing sophisticated genetic engineering that might eventually lead to the development of flavourless sugar. Over here, we have been creating a chemical that increases plant growth by a whole .015%." the guide droned.
Parter pointed out a large translucent, cylindrical structure in the middle of the room. "Did you know that that is the biggest test tube in the eastern United States?"
"Parter, what makes you think I want to know about that?" murmured Larry.
"Good question. Who would?"

They stopped in front of a glass wall showing experimentation in another room. "This is a top-secret, ultra hush-hush project we've been working on for the military. It may either lead to the ultimate super soldier, or a possible maniacal super-villain."
Inside the room, a man was smashing into walls, riding on what appeared to be an out-of-control hover scooter.
"Of course, there are a few bugs to be fixed with some of the equipment in there."
The man's screams of pain were audible through the glass as he crashed through a desk and began zooming involuntarily after terrified lab technicians.
Parter held up his camera. "For the school paper?" The guide woman, despite having just explained how top secret this project was, and the fact that the project was experiencing difficulties, nodded in approval. Just when he pressed the button, somebody pushed him, misdirecting the camera as the flash went off.
Larry glared at the guy. "Leave him alone."
The guy smirked. "Or what?"
"Or his father will run away terrified from your father!" laughed Blur Stompson.
"So what if he will?"
"Hey!" interjected their teacher. "The next person who talks will have to write lines, I jest you not. Come on." The teacher leads Larry and Parter away from the stereotypical bullies.
"Let's move on then." said the guide. The man inside the room was thrown off his scooter and slammed into the glass wall; sliding down it with a squealing noise. The scooter, however, was still wreaking mayhem as the students continued on the tour.

[fever red]

He'heehee.

[Agent Thermal]

"Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah, uh...blah blah blah..." the guide droned on, now realizing that neither the students, the I-Jest-You-Not guy, nor herself were actually listening to her. That is, except for the now-annoyed Parter, who was actually interested in what was going on in his friend's father's factory.

Just then, he caught a glimpse of the girl he'd been trying to get a glimpse of all morning - Jerri Mayne, who was once again being dogged by Blur Stompson. She laughed mirthfully as he told her in excruitiating detail about all the nerds he was going to beat up in the janitor's closet once they got back to school.

"So, you gonna talk to her?" asked Larry tauntingly to Parter.

"Who, me? Nah..." answered Parter.

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm a nerd, she's not, and, well, you know how that goes..."

"Aw, Part, you gotta realize - you may not have THAT much of a chance if you DO talk to her, but you'll NEVER have a chance if you NEVER talk to her!"

"Hey, you're right! But Blur's there..."

"So? The security guards know me! I'll just call 'em and tell them that I saw him messing with the 'Operation Gr-', uh, I mean, the top-secret stuff my dad and Mr. Strumm are working on..."

"Um...okay..."

So, with that, Larry whipped out his cell-phone and dialed the hotline for the OzzyInc security...and in no time at all, Blur Stompson was forcefully escorted out of the laboratory and back into the school bus, the fellow students and Mr. I-Jest-You-Not laughing the entire time.

"Okay, now go!" urged Larry.

"Uh...what do I say?" asked Parter, clearly nervous.

"You say 'Hi, I'm Parter, nice to meet ya. And you are?' See, nothing to it!"

"Yeah, but everyone knows her name already...it'll sound stupid..."

"Ugh, forget it - watch and learnnnnn..." said Larry as he approached the still-bewildered-from-the-security-episode JM.

"Hi, I'm Larry..." said Larry nonchalantly to JM.

"Uh....hi..." said JM, clearly uninterested.

"Hey, uh, did you know that that test tube back there is the largest on the western seaboard?"

Parter fumed. It's 'eastern,' you dummy. We're in Washington, D.C.

"Uh, no, I didn't..." said JM, becoming more and more bored and confused by the second.

"Well, uh, did you know that, uh...MY DAD IS WORKING ON A TOP-SECRET FORMULA THAT WILL EVENTUALLY TURN SOMEBODY INTO A MANIACAL AND SUPER-POWERFUL VILLAIN!?" blurted out Larry, desperate for a positive response from JM.

"Gee...that's, uh, great..." said JM as she walked off to join her girlfriends who were pointing and giggling at two nearby hunky scientists.

"AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" yelled Larry. "I GIVE UP! YOU try something, Parter..."

"Well, I guess the thing here would be to-" began Parter. As he attempted to finish his sentence, however, his cell-phone rang.

"Yeah?" asked Parter into the phone.

"PEKER! JUST THE MAN I WAS LOOKIN' FOR!!!"

"Mr. Jingleheimerschmidt! It's you! I thought you'd never return my calls about my application!"

"DON'T GET YOUR HOPES UP, KID - I'M CALLIN' 'CUZ I NEED AN EXTREMELY DESPERATE KID TO TAKE ON A RATHER DANGEROUS ASSIGNMENT, AND YOUR RESUME WAS THE FIRST ONE I PULLED OUT OF THE TRASH!"

"Well, sir, I'd be happy to provide my photography skills for your comp-"

"GOODY," interrupted John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt, aka JJJ. "NOW LISTEN UP - I'VE ALREADY CALLED YOUR AUNT JUNE AND UNCLE KEN - THEY KNOW YOU'RE HEADING OFF TO AUSTRALIA ALREADY, SO THAT'S TAKEN CARE OF."

"Wait, Australia? What for?"

"KID, WE'RE A NATURE MAGAZINE - INTERNATIONAL TOPOGRAPHIC, REMEMBER? THE WORLD'S LEADING NATURE MAGAZINE! WE'RE DOING AN ENTIRE ISSUE ON SUGAR GLIDERS IN AUSTRALIA'S RAINFORESTS - AND YOU ARE JUST THE KIND OF DESPERATE-FOR-WORK KID WE'RE LOOKING FOR TO GO THERE OVER THE WEEKEND! I KNOW THERE'S A BIG, UNSTABLE NUCLEAR POWER PLANT NEARBY AND EVERYTHING, BUT IT'S NOTHING YOU HAVEN'T HANDLED BEFORE, RIGHT?"

"Well, actually -"

"WONDERFUL! PACK YOUR BAGS, KID! I'LL MEET YA AT THE AIRPORT IN 6 MINUTES!"

"6 minutes? How am I -"

JJJ hung up.

Parter just stared blankly into space for a while, absorbing the situation - he really needed the money, and this was the first actual job offer he'd received...

"Uh, Larry, I gotta go - I gotta go to Australia over the weekend..."

"Wow - Australia? Why?"

"I work for International Topographic now, and-"

"You mean International Topographic? The World's Leading Nature Magazine? My dad has a lifetime subscription to that!"

"Yes, Larry, that one. Anyway, I gotta go take pictures of some sugar gliders in the rainforest there, and I have to be at the airport in about 5 minutes..."

"How are you going to pack your bags and get to the airport in 5 minutes, when your house is at the other end of the school district?"

"I'll just have to do the best I can...see ya later..."

"Bye, Part!" shouted Larry, waving his friend goodbye.

Parter waded through the sea of security guards as he made his way through the giant exit in the back of the building.

Hey, I bet I could introduce JM and her friends to those scientists...heh heh...thought Larry mischeivously, keeping a huge, disturbing grin on his face to Parter as he slowly backed toward the group.

[Démon]

Later in the day, after the students left, an entirely different group arrived at OzzyInc...

Wendel Strumm led the OzzyInc Board of Directors and General Hokum - representative of the U.S. Army, who funds the project - through the large laboratory dedicated entirely to "Operation: Gray Stuff", a project intended to create some gray-colored glop to feed to soldiers in order to make them super-powerful. Strumm was the top scientist in OzzyInc, and knew Truman Ozzybourne better than any who worked there.

Strumm stopped the group in front of a man who was attempting to land the hover scooter that was witnessed going on a rampage by Parter's science class hours earlier. The scooter was well equipped for the manliness of the military; it was painted purple, had a flowery handbasket on the front, and upon the handlebars was placed a little bell and some rainbow-themed streamers on the edges. A vehicle that would strike fear into the hearts of the enemy.
"We've solved the problem with the horizon glide...turns out that we forgot to install any sort of braking mechanisms. We're also working on the multi-G balance issues-" Wendel explained before being cut off by the General.
"I've already seen the scooter! What's the status on the gray stuff?"
But before Wendel could answer, Truman walked into the room wearing a pinstriped suit with an oversized flower sticking out of the front pocket. The surrounding staff groaned and hid their faces in embarassment.
"General Hokum! So good to see you again. And it's always inconvenient when our Board of Directors pays us a little visit." Truman smiled at the group. Hokum was less than cheerful, and the Board of Directors frowned when they realized what Truman said.
"Hello, Mr. Ozzybourne. Quite an interesting choice of...attire..." said the General. "Dr. Strumm was just about to give us a status report on the gray stuff."
"Well, we have discovered a 0.5% increase in the strength of our subjects, but one of the experiments had, um, some side effects..." Wendel said.
"Side effects?" questioned the General.
"Yes. Convulsions, drooling, spazzing out...oh, and insanity, not that it matters." Wendel said, before Truman intervened by bumping him to the side and onto a table laden with test tubes. Shattering glass and swearing could be heard as Wendel hit the tabletop.
"That was only one trial. All the experiments since then have been successful, and with the exception of Dr. Strumm," Truman indicated Wendel struggling to straighten the test tubes, "our entire staff certifies the gray stuff as ready for testing." At this, Truman put on the creepy smile that you would expect from a used car salesman.
"...Dr. Strumm?" Hokum turned to the scientist, who accidently dropped a test tube and smashed it.
"We need to take the whole line back to the drawing board." Wendel answered. The General sighed. Truman took Wendel to the side.
"Back to the drawing board?! Couldn't you have said something less cliché, such as 'formula'?"
"Mr. Ozzybourne." Truman turned to face the General. "I need to be Frank with you, and you can be Ted. I never supported your operation, despite the very good show I've been putting on to make it seem like I did. You have my predecessor to thank for this mess. 'Best Aerospace' will be performing their initial run in two weeks, and if you haven't had a successful trial by then, I'm going to pull your funding. And I'm going to give it to them." The General indicated a small group of beggers outside the window.
"Come along, General." said one of the Board members, and they left the room. Truman stood still, and the flower in his front pocket wilted in a humorous manner.

Meanwhile, in Australia...

[Agent Thermal]

"Stupid flies! Stupid ticks! Stupid rash-inducing plants!!!" yelled Parter systematically as he trekked wearily through the rugged rainforest of Australia...it didn't cover too much of the continent, but it did cover just enough to house many unique species of fauna...including some of the most annoying insects on the face of the planet. They flew in his ears, up his nose, down his tear-duct tubes, and even into his camera, which was fortunately built to be fly-proof.

After slapping away a multitude of intruding poisonous leaves, he finally came upon a clearing - a clearing which he'd been traveling toward for over half of the day. With a defeated sigh/groan, Parter slumped to the leech-covered ground and began to empty his backpack, only to find that the flies had bored into his canteen, emptying all the water within and subsequently spoiling his food.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I HATE AUSTRALIA!!!!" yelled Parter in unparalleled agitation. With disgust, he threw his backpack to his right - it struck a rotted stump, which unfortunately contained a nest of now-even-more-agitated wasps.

-----------------------------

After treating his sting-wounds with the poisonous leaves, which actually provided relief compared to the pain of the stings, Parter decided to walk around more to locate some sugar gliders - because the sooner he found them and photographed them, the sooner he could leave. They were becoming rather difficult to locate, though.

Good thing JJJ's paying me by the wound, and not by commission... bemoaned Parter.

Meanwhile, at a local nuclear power plant, in a coolant room not too far away...

"Oi Jeff...ye evah get tha manuel oi senchah?"

"Whot manuel, moit?"

"Yew knaow...the nucleah powah pleeyant operoition manuel? Didje get it?"

"Aow, yew mean THET one theah?" said Jeff, pointing to the brown, white, and blue FedUp box laying to his side, still unopened.

"YEW MEAN YEW DIDN' OWPEN ET?" screamed Paul, Jeff's supervisor.

"Well, oi figyahd sence ya hoi-ahd moi, theyat yew figyahd oi knew whot oi waz doin'!!"

"YEW BLOOMIN' IDIOT! YEW CAN'T JUST OPEROIT A NUCLEAH POWAH PLEEYANT WITHOUT KNOWIN' THA BOISICS FUHST!!!"

"Well, oi figyahd thet as long as oi knew not to press tha red bahtton heah, that oll would be foin..."

"YEW AHNT SUPPOWSED TA PUSH THA GREEN BAHTTON, NOT THA RED ONE! THE GREEN ONE IS THA ONE THAT ACTIVATES THA SELF-DESTRUCT MECHANISM!!! NOW WE'VE GOHT TA RUN FOH AOWA BLOOMIN' LOIVES!!!"

With that, Jeff, Paul, and the rest of the power plant's employees ran for their bloomin' lives as the core reactor began to overheat...

Back at the clearing...

Found ya at last...thought Parter as he brought his camera up to photograph a fruit-nibbling sugar glider that was eyeing him strangely...

*Snap*
http://www.geocities.com/ozwildlife/Images/M00290.jpg

*Snap*
http://www.geocities.com/ozwildlife/Images/M00300.jpg

*Snap*
http://www.swordworks.org/mark/mark2.jpg

"Sir, I'm trying to take pictures of wildlife here...please get out of the way..." moaned Parter...he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Sorry man..." said the strange Texan man, walking slowly away and into the forest from the newly-materialized kitchen that had been there for a split second.

"Finally..." whispered Parter.

He then spotted a conveniently located sugar glider right above his head, once more nibbling on fruit innocently. Just as Parter raised his camera to his face in order to take the picture...

BOOM!!!

The trememdous explosion sent Parter reeling and the gliders crazy, causing Parter to accidentally snap this picture:

http://www.swordworks.org/mark/mark7.jpg

The glider, amidst the confusion and animal frenziness, bit Parter harshly on the nose as it landed on his face, causing him to yell muffled-ly in pain as he fell backwards, hitting his head on the stump he'd irritated earlier. The impact knocked him out, preventing him from fleeing from the rapidly spreading radiation that enveloped the forest...and his sugar glider bite mark.

Later that evening, at the Sydney Hospital...

"This goi heah is lucky to be aloive..." said Dr. Hogan, shaking his head in bewilderment at his patient's miraculously healthy state.

"I'm right here - you can talk to me, you know..." moaned Parter in his hospital bed.

"Sorry, moit - still can't believe yoh not dead theah!" laughed Dr. Hogan good-naturedly.

"Why is that?" asked a confused Parter.

"Well, funny yew should ask theeyat...ya see, yew suffuhd a direct radiation blast woil yew weh unconscious theah..."

"Radiation blast? That must have been the explosion that drove those sugar gliders crazy!"

"Roit. And if it wasn't foh this koind bloak heah, we nevah would've found ya woi out theah in the forest, moit!" explained Dr. Hogan, pointing to the strange photo-ruining-but-life-saving Texan man, who was laying in the next hospital bed and slowly turning into a gnat-themed super-villain due to the gnat bites mixed with the radiation HE'D received.

"Well, if I'm not dead yet, what IS my state, Doc?"

"Theeyat's an interesting question theeyah...from whot moi repohts tell me, yew've got enhanced strength, smell, speed, sight, hearing, and yew've developed some weeyad flaps of skeeyen undah youh ahmpits..."

"WHAT?" shouted Parter in horror.

"Oi think yew've got Gloidah-noitis, moit...a reyah disease that moiks the victim suffah extreme sugah-gloidah-loik symptoms, including the ones yew've got theah, moit. It only comes from the intoik of sugah gloidah saliva and nucleah radiation...and oi think you've gotton both of those..."

"Glider-nitis? Is it fatal?"

"Naope! It's actually quoite beneficial - it'll make it so yew ah physically loik a sugah gloidah, only as a human. Yew'll be able to gloid and run loik nevah befoah, and yoah senses'll be enhanced to levels unhuhd of, moit! The only real bad thing it MOIT do is moik it so that yew want fruit all the bloomin' toim...othah then theeyat, yew should be foin!"

"Really?"

"Shuah! We'll get the medication roit away..."

"NO, NO, it's okay..." said Parter, waving Dr. Hogan back. "Uh, my insurance doesn't cover...uh...glider-nitis..."

"Oh, well, uh...oi guess we'll just send ya back home to ya Ont June and Uncle Ken, then!"

"Sounds good to me!!! Hey, did you save my camera?"

"Oim afroid it didn't make it through the radiation, moit..." said Dr. Hogan sadly, wiping away a tear.

Parter started crying too...but for a totally different reason.

Meanwhile, back at OzzyInc...

[Démon]

Truman strode into the laboratory in which "Operation: Gray Stuff" was contained, followed by a stuttering and nervous Wendel Strumm. The lab was empty; everybody else was home eating dinner with their families.

"Truman, no, we can't do this! Don't you realize the dangerous potential of this absurd decision you've made?!" Strumm was saying.

"Don't be a coward, Dr. Strumm." Truman replied. "Risks are a part of laboratory science. Mind you, the things usually at risk aren't human beings, but you get the gist."

"I don't get the gist, Truman! Come on, if you just give us two weeks..."

"Two weeks? In two weeks, we'll have lost the contract to Best, and those bums out there will be fed." Truman thumbed over his shoulder at the window, where the homeless people stared with their faces pressed against the glass. "Oh, and OzzyInc might go belly-up..."

"Truman..."

"Hand me the Pepto-Bismol."

"Why?"

"Because it prevents all sorts of symptoms when ingested." Truman explained, trying to demonstrate his scientific prowess. "Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea...HEY, Pepto-Bismol!" he sang, dancing in a way that would make Ricky Martin cry.

Strumm just shook his head to himself and handed Truman the pink bottle.
" 'Thirty thousand years of evolution, and we've barely tapped the vastness of human potential'." muttered Truman, taking a large swig and then chucking the bottle to the side. Catching the awed look on Strumm's face, he decided to clarify what he just said, "Read it on a sugar packet."

Truman walked into a large glass structure in the middle of the room and closed the door behind him. Strumm typed something in on his computer and glanced back at Truman.

A loud, booming voice said the word "UH-OH!" and a large man dressed entirely in black appeared out of nowhere and tipped a bucket full of gray slime over the edge of the glass structure and onto Truman's body below. Truman had insisted they take a game show approach to the experiment.

When the gray glop hit Truman, it sizzled on his skin and he began yelling. Strumm watched in terror as his boss ran around the glass compartment, screaming like the Tazmanian Devil, as the gray slime continued to burn. The scientist covered his eyes and ducked for cover under the table, waiting for the screams to end. With a echoing "thunk!", they did. Strumm peered over the table and saw Truman lying on the floor after running face first into the solid glass wall, gray stuff grafted onto his skin.

"TRUMAN!" cried Strumm, running into the glass compartment. "Oh, God!" Truman's heart ceased beating, and his friend attempted to revive him by punching him in the chest. It just caused bruising. Then suddenly, a beeping noise came from one of the monitors, which was kind of odd, considering that Truman's heart rate wasn't being measured by the computers. Something caught Strumm tightly around the throat. He looked down to see the insane and furious face of the man-he-presumed-was-dead-but-really-wasn't.

"Back to the drawing board? That was LAME!" and with an angry yell, Truman threw Strumm right through the glass with his newfound strength. He jumped to the edge of the broken glass wall, and hissing, leaped towards the fallen scientist. Naturally, he missed, and flew headfirst into the floor. But once he got up, he advanced towards his cowering employee.

Meanwhile...

[Agent Thermal]

"Honey!!! It's so good to have you back! Did you enjoy your trip?" asked Aunt June good-naturedly as Parter walked into the door of his aunt and uncles' apartment. He walked in with his arms straight down his sides, stiff as a board, so that the underarm-flaps wouldn't bulge out of his shirt.

"Oh, yeah, it was great...uh, I wanna go lie down now..." hurried Parter as he quickly made his way up the stairs, not even pausing to say "hello."

"But Parter, honey, we missed you!" called Aunt June after the curiously-stiff teen hurried into his room and slammed the door.

"Ah, let him go, June..." said Parter's Uncle Ken as he was finally installing their smoke detector for the first time. "He's not your little boy anymore, ya know."

"He can still say 'hello' once and a while!" yelled June to Ken AND Parter in a distraught manner.

"Annnnndddd...voila! And God said: 'Let there be two old people who finally decide to abide by the law!'" yelled Ken in triumph as he finished the final screw on his smoke detector.

"Well, now all ya gotta do is get a job!" said June back.

Up in Parter's room...

The stereo blared as Parter sang along and flexed his newfound muscles narcissisticly in front of the mirror.

"I'm - too sexy for my shirt; too sexy for my shirt...
So sexy it huuuuuuurts...
And I'm - too sexy for Milan; too sexy for Milan
New York and Japaaaaaan..."

MAN I'm buff...thought Parter. Wait 'till JM gets a load of THIS!

However, despite his current un-nerdiness, he couldn't help but notice the huge flaps of skin that had formed from right below his wrist to his thigh. It wasn't so tight so as to make it impossible to wear a shirt and pants, but he would have to wear long-sleeve shirts for the rest of his life if he didn't want anyone else to find out about this.

Suddenly his phone rang, rudely interrupting Parter's ego-trip. He paused the Right Said Fred CD and picked up the receiver.

"Yeah?" said Parter smoothly.

"PEKER! THAT YOU?" asked a very familiar yelling voice - JJJ again.

Parter gulped - this was the last person he wanted to hear from - the camera he'd been given for the trip and lost cost over $900, and he hadn't been able to get a single picture either.

"Uh....yeah?" he responded weakly.

"GOODY. YOU GOT THE PICTURES?"

"Um...well, ya see, about that..."

"WHAT!? I KNEW YOU WERE WORTHLESS! I SHOULD'VE KNOWN NOT TO SEND SOME KID OUT THERE TO TAKE THOSE PICTURES!!! THAT'S IT! YOU'RE UN-HIRED!!! YOU CAN FORGET YOUR PAYCHECK, PEKER! I GUESS I'M GONNA HAVE TO SEND CROCK AGAIN ON THIS ONE! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!"

CLING!

The loud cling hurt his newfound Glider-hearing, so he squeaked in agony as he jerked the phone away from his ear and hung it up sadly. Parter slowly walked over to his CD player...and pushed the play button again.

Out on the street in front of OzzyInc....

"HEEEELLLLLPPPP MEEEEE!!!!" yelled Dr. Strumm in terror as he ran down the street, trying to outrun the gray-colored freak that was chasing him - the gray-colored freak that had once been Truman Ozzybourne.

"I'm coming for you, Strummmmm..." hissed the deformed Truman as he ran with super-human speed down the sidewalk - at this time of night, there was no one around to help the poor and pathetically slow doctor.

Oh no...where am I going to hide...thought Dr. Strumm in panic as he looked around the shops that aligned the deserted street. The only one that was still open was the local costume shop - it was open late due to the fact that it was conveniently around Halloween time. With a gasp of relief, Strumm burst through the door and into the store.

"May I help you?" asked the extremely bored employee behind the counter.

"YOU GOTTA HELP ME! THERE'S THIS CRAZY SCIENTIST WHO'S COVERED HIMSELF IN THIS GRAY FORMULA WE DEVELOPED THAT'S DEFORMED HIM AND DRIVEN HIM CRAZY AND NOW HE WANTS TO KILL ME BECAUSE I TOLD A LAME CLICHÉ!!!!"

"Hey, that would make an awesome superhero story or something..."

"NO, NO, YOU DON'T UNDERS-"

Suddenly, Truman burst through the door, revealing to the employee what Dr. Strumm was talking about.

He was stark naked, and his skin was entirely gray and scaly. His ears had become extremely pointy, and his teeth were sharper than usual. Other than that, he was pretty normal.

"DUDE, AWESOME COSTUME!" yelled the employee, clearly impressed.

"This isn't a costume, you idiot! What are you talking about!?" yelled Truman as he searched for Dr. Strumm through the aisles. As he did, he suddenly came across a mirror placed next to one of the costume racks - and Truman saw what he had become.

"AAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!! What's WRONG WITH ME!?" he yelled. "AND WHAT HAPPENED TO MY CLOTHES!?"

Panicking quickly, he grabbed the nearest costume on the rack - a Power Ranger suit - and slipped into it while the employee and Dr. Strumm looked on in amazement, horror, and overall confusion.

After slipping into the suit that conveniently fit him snugly, he then went for the matching helmet - but his ears were too pointy to fit.

"WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF!?" he yelled in agony - then his personality abrubtly changed back to the maniacal version. He suddenly began to talk to himself.

"Because, you idiot, SOMEBODY had to take the Gray Stuff, and since there's a new superhero about to originate himself in this very city, he's going to need a supervillain - it was too perfect NOT to happen!"

Then, he suddenly went nuts on the employee and Dr. Strumm, making sure they would never be able to tell of what had happened that night.

[Démon]

Parter left the house in the morning, smoothing out the long sleeves of his dorky shirt in order to hide the skin flaps and bully-frightening muscles that he developed. The door slammed open next door and Jerri Mayne hurried out, clutching her books, while a short, yelling bald man followed her.

"You're trash! You're always going to be trash! You're just like her! Did I say that you were trash?! If I didn't, I'll repeat it again! You're TRASH, you trashy piece of unwanted trash!" yelled JM's father in unwarranted rage.
"I have to go to school!" sobbed JM, continuing to walk away.
"Ahh, who's stoppin' ya?" her father muttered, turning away. Parter reached into his bookbag, pulled out an apple, and lobbed it at the man's head as he took off in a run. He could hear the "THUNK!" and loud expletives as he tried to catch up with Jerri Mayne.

She stopped a while down the street, obviously upset. Parter ducked behind a garbage can a few feet away and began murmuring to himself.

" 'Hi, JM...how are you?' No. 'Yo, JM! Wassup, dog?!' No. 'Hey baby, take a walk on the wild side?' Definitely not..."

He was so busy talking to himself that he did not notice that JM had just been picked up by some of her friends in a convertible, or the fact that people - even hobos - were staring at him strangely. Indeed, he didn't notice anything outside his own talking until he heard the unmistakeable sound of a passing school bus.

"Darn it!" Parter said, keeping within the nerdy etiquette that strictly prohibits any actual swearing. He ran out on to the street in pursuit of the bus, causing a 18-wheeler to jackknife as it tried to avoid him.

He began catching up to the school bus, and fast. Some might attribute this to his increased speed, but the more sensible people will point out that the bus is only going 5 mph tops. However, the bus driver obviously didn't notice (or tried not to notice) the student desperately hammering his fist on the side of the vehicle. The students on board laughed, and continued to do so, as Parter chased the bus for it's entire route - when it stopped for pick-ups, he just ran around it to keep pace instead of boarding it. And so he ended up chasing the bus all the way to school.

Meanwhile, in the Ozzybourne mansion...

Larry enters his father's drawing room to see Truman sprawled out on the floor, with a slightly gray complexion and a Power Rangers costume on.

"DAD?!" yelled Larry, throwing aside his bookbag and knocking over a nearby butler. "DAD?! ARE YOU OKAY?!"

Truman's eyes opened and he looked up into his son's face.
"Larry?"

"Dad, where were you last night? You're gray, and you're wearing a Power Rangers outfit."

Truman blinked, slowly trying to remember. So slowly in fact, that Larry ended up missing the first period of school while his father tried to recall the events of last night.
"Last night...I was..."
A sudden flashback enters Truman's mind as he sees himself, attacking a screaming Strumm and costume store cashier in a fit of cliché-induced rage.

But before he can think of an ending for his sentence, a woman bursts into the room.
"Mr. Ozzybourne!" the woman panted.

"Excuse me, but my father's a bit under the weather..." Larry began, but she ignored him.

"Mr. Ozzybourne, Dr. Strumm is dead!"

"Dr. Strumm..."

"And the gray stuff and scooter...!"

"What?"

"They've been stolen, sir!" the woman said, as Truman slowly lifted himself off the floor.

--

Sorry for the length of time it took to add this part, but I've been busy.

[Agent Thermal]

Meanwhile, back at P.S. 1,085,947,395 High School...

The day had gone smoothly enough thusfar for Parter. Nobody seemed to notice that he was drastically changed physically, mainly due to his bulky sweatshirt that everyone DID notice. Blur Stompson had only fired 11 spitballs at him that morning compared to his usual 38, and JM had actually almost glanced at him once when she looked at somebody else next to him. Overall, the day was going pretty swell for Parter - but in mere moments, lunch time would begin...and Parter had the weirdest and STRONGEST urge for fruit...

Mere moments later...

"Hey, uh, you guys got any bananas, or apples, or some other kind of fruit?" asked Parter hopefully to the clearly haggard and depressed lunch lady.

"Sorry...we just ran out...gave the last banana and apple and some other kind of fruit to that red haired girl over there," said the lady, pointing with her mush-covered ladle and splattering it on Parter's face nonchalantly.

"Kay...thanks..." said Parter as he threw his tray out of the way and ran straight toward JM with his newfound Glider-speed, who was slowly trotting to her popular-girls table.

With a piercing squeak of discovery, effort, and hunger-induced insanity, Parter jumped through the air and tackled JM with all his might, sending HER tray of mush 'n fruit flying high into the air. The second the two bodies hit the ground, Parter instantly threw her out of the way and caught the tray in midair, and waited patiently for the fruit to fall back down. After waiting patiently for a few nanoseconds, he expertly caught the banana, the apple, and even the other fruit in a stack formation. Not caring about anything else, he carelessly let the mush fall to the ground.

With a triumphant grin, Parter took the tray of fruit and spun around to face - not the table he was originally planning to go to, but - an enraged and messy Blur Stompson, who was covered in mush. The tray Parter threw away earlier, back at the line, had hit him directly in the face. Parter suddenly realized this unfortunate consequence of his hasty and insane action earlier, and gulped nervously as a result.

"Nobody..." began Blur, steaming with rage, "...throws their tray of school-mush at me without LOOKING FIRST AND WARNING ME!!!"

"Uhhh...hey Biff, what the heck is THAT!?" yelled Parter while pointing over Blur's shoulder, hoping to distract him with a technique he'd picked up by watching hours of 80's movies.

"What? WHERE!?" yelled Blur in alarm, turning around to see only the rest of the cafeteria staring back at him strangely, wondering how on Earth he'd actually fallen for that.

"Uh...hey, wait a minute, my name's not BIFF!" yelled Blur in even more rage as he took off after the fleeing Parter. Just as he took his first step, however, he instantly slipped on JM's previously-spilled mush, sending him butt-first HARD onto the tiled cafeteria floor. Wincing at the pain and humiliation he was experiencing at the moment, Blur slowly got up, wiped his shoes off, and yelled with fury as he took off once again after Parter.

An even more enraged and confused JM took off after him as well, eager for some revenge herself.
----------------------------------------
Gotta hide, gotta hide, gotta HIDE...thought Parter in animal-like panic as he looked around the deserted hallway desperately. There was nowhere to hide except...the janitor's closet - the exact same one where the dazed bodies of still-beat-up nerds lay. That, or a locker. After much thought crammed into a few milliseconds, he decided on the locker option. With his tray of fruit still in hand, he used his newfound Glider-dexterity to cram himself into his own locker...the LAST locker anyone would think to look in.

Wrong.

"GET outta there, Peker!" yelled Blur as he instantly yanked open the door to the locker and slung Parter out into the hallway, spilling Parter's coveted fruit in the process.

"Think you're somethin' special, doncha PUNK-er?" bullied Blur to Parter, shoving him back into the locker harshly.

"Yeah, PUNK-ER!" yelled JM behind him, glaring the mortified Parter down.

"I'd back off if I were you, Blur...you don't know what I'm capable of..." weakly threatened Parter.

"Oh, I've seen what you're CAPABLE of, Punk-er...wetting your pants whenever I jump atcha from behind your locker!"

The entire student body and teaching staff gathered in a huge circle around the three laughed hysterically at this observance.

"No Blur...I mean capable of hurting YOU."

Blur backed away with a humored smirk on his face. JM flanked him on the side, her fists balled up, in the air, and ready for action.

"You think you can take on both of us, Peker? GO FOR IT," taunted Blur.

"Okay, sure...HEY BIFF, WHAT THA HECK IS THAT!?" yelled Parter again, pointing and hoping he could make it two for two.

"Oh, no, I ain't fallin' for THAT again!" yelled Blur back, but JM couldn't help but look behind herself dramatically. With that temporary and pathetic advantage, Parter picked up his lunch tray that he'd dropped and quickly flung it like a frisbee at JM, knocking her several feet backwards into the cushion ring of students. Blur stared with a gaping jaw as Parter brought up his fists and unintentionally sprouted tiny claws from his fingernails. Parter gasped at this new development, but suddenly decided to implement them to his advantage.

With a squeal of unbridled fury and exhiliration, Parter leaped for Blur, blocking all of his pathetic attempts to punch him and scratching his face up horrifically in the process. After getting quite a few impressive swipes in, he was pulled off of Blur by JM who subsequently connected with two strong consecutive hooks to his jaw and midsection, sending Parter flying back into the lockers. With a scream of her own, she picked up Blur and hurled his limp and hurting body into Parter, denting the lockers behind them and flattening them both with their cumulative weight.

As the student body and teaching staff looked on in sheer amazement, JM yanked Parter out of the pile haphazardly and slung him around in a complete circle before letting him go, sending him hurdling headfirst through the closed (and hardwood) door of the janitor's closet and into a full and dirty mop bucket. She then combed her hands through her hair, took a deep breath, and grinned as she picked up her purse.

With that, everyone cheered loudly, chanting "JM, JM, JM!!!" Larry, who had finally arrived at the school moments before the fight had all began, whistled loudly and ran up to her, shoving around and not caring at all about the throng of students who had already gone in front of him.

"Hey, JM, that was AWESOME! My dad owns this very popular local wrestling league, ya know, and they've been looking for some female members! You oughta join!" he babbled, yanking out a business card to hand to JM.

She swatted it away as she continued to fix her hair. Larry watched downheartedly as the card fluttered in a defeated fashion to the floor.

"I hate those barbaric and stupid wrestling things...it's just so violent and wrong..." she said as she trotted back to the lunchroom to attempt another lunch. Larry ran after her, ranting further about how he could possibly market her fighting abilities.

Parter moaned and slowly brought his head out of the mop bucket, spitting out the grotesque mixture of water, dirt, and ammonia. He then slowly got up and winced as he felt the bruises from the harsh impact with the lockers and wooden door. He turned to face the large hole in the closet door and winced even further.

After washing out the chemicals from his eyes and washing the cuts and scrapes in the nearby sink, he hobbled slowly out into the now-deserted-again hallway and made his way slowly back to the next class. As he turned the corner, he happened to notice a recently-dropped business card that advertised a local wrestling league. According to the card, it was looking for "colorful, un-nerdy wrestlers," and it offered a $5,000 dollar reward to the one who could last 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds with a "mystery wrestler."

Realizing that he actually WAS at least able to beat up Blur, and that with enough training, he could hone his Glider-abilities to further his inhuman combat skills (plus the fact that he needed some money and a job HORRIBLY), Parter stuffed the card in his pocket with a glimmer of hope and continued to limp back to class.

[Knightsaber Priss]

Um....okay. :confused:

[Agent Thermal]

Um....okay. :confused:

It REALLY helps if you've read our previous installment "Gliderman: Rise of the Sick Six," AND seen the first Spiderman movie. Oh yeah - and it also helps to appreciate our humor.;):p Some people just can't, I guess...;):D

[luvnightcrawler]

thank you, i really needed to laugh. HAHAHAHAHA!!!!:D

[Agent Thermal]

Why, thank you very much!!!:D Also, thanks for bumping it! I was about to, but ya beat me to it! More will be added soon!:D

[Agent Thermal]

After school, Parter made it a point to run down the street conspicuously for about a mile, then turn into an alleyway, hoping to hide from no one in particular. Leaning against the wall of the alleyway and panting heavily, he looked around nervously and gazed at his hands.

As if on cue, tiny claws shot out in place of his fingernails, strangely causing him no pain. Looking up, he noticed the brick wall in front of him - and an interesting thought crossed his mind:

Did I leave the coffee maker on?

Oh, yeah - could I possibly CLIMB this wall?

With soaring hopes and curiosity, Parter spread out his hands and grasped the wall gingerly - and sure enough, he felt adherence.

With even more excitement, he began to easily climb towards the roof - despite the fact that his sneakers possessed zero adhesive ability. Upon reaching the top, Parter looked out over the Washington skyline and took a deep breath - this was the highest up he'd EVER been without throwing up first.

I think I'm starting to LIKE Glider-nitis, thought Parter. Hey, wait a minute! If I have the powers of a sugar glider, I should be able to glide farther than the average human!!!

With this not-so-newfound discovery, Parter ripped off his shirt and extended his arms, revealing the freaky skin flaps beneath his arms. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind caught Parter right in the back, causing him to lose his balance and send him reeling forward into an elevated air duct with a loud CLANG.

"Stupid air ducts," he murmured as he shook off the pain. "I think I'll practice my agility first, THEN get a handle on my gliding abilities!"

With that, Parter sewed his shirt back together and put it back on, THEN began to take a running start toward the next building. With his newfound strength, Peter let out a loud and nerdy "Geeeee golly!" as he leaped from the roof of that building and onto the next one.

In mid-air, though, he suddenly felt lightweight and blurry, as if his actual physical structure had changed as he was in mid-air between buildings. Once he landed, Parter quickly looked down to his feet - and he saw the blurriness slowly fading into tangibility.

Wait a minute...thought Parter, thinking about the situation. I turned CGI while in mid-air!!!

Pushing the experiment farther, he ran in erratic directions at super-glider speed. Even as he ran in inhuman quickness, he felt the lightweight blurriness coming on again. With the newfound momentum, he jumped as hard as he could to the west, seeing that there was a building. Sure enough, he noticed his entire body became blurry and fakey-looking as he flew through the air toward the next building's roof.

With a painless and 8.9-rated landing, Parter quickly came back into real-life form.

Wow - when I do stuff a stuntman can't, I turn CGI automatically! AWESOME! yelled Parter mentally.

Not even caring about how his CGI-abilities had nothing to do with radioactive sugar-glider saliva, Parter ripped off his shirt again and lept straight into the air, letting the wind take control of him again. With his arms spread out, and the fakey CGI enveloping him once again, he glode (or glided) toward the Capital Building's distinctive dome roof, hoping to land smoothly on it as well.

Of course, being inexperienced with his sugar-glider abilities, Parter didn't exactly know how to put on the "brakes," which resulted in him SMACK-ing into one of the windows of the Capital Building's dome with sickening force. And, just as the scooter rider he'd seen just days before at Ozzyinc, he slid down the rarely-cleaned glass with an all-too-familiar squealing noise, his face pressed against it comically.

It seemed even his CGI abilities had their limitations.

[Agent Thermal]

*bump for preservation* :cool:

[Démon]

Later that night, Parter raced back home to his house after having finally regained conciousness from smashing into the Capital Building. He walked through the front door, and found the house empty. At least, he hoped it was empty. He still never forgot the incident in which he thought that Uncle Ken and Aunt June weren't home, and entered their bedroom only to be traumatized by what he witnessed there. "Knock before entering" was soon embedded into his mind.
After repressing the memory of that event, Parter decided to search the kitchen for any conspicuous notes indicating that left-overs were saved just for him. He found one on the fridge.

"Hey Leonardo da Vinci,
There's some Daft Dinner waiting for you in the microwave. We would've made meatloaf, but you know how bloated your Aunt feels after having some of that.
--Your Uncle Ken."

Deciding to pass up on the Macaroni and Cheese, Parter instead lugged the garbage out to the garbage cans. He noticed how much easier it was when he had his Glider-enhanced strength. The silence was broken by yelling coming from Jerri Mayne's house next door.

"You're still trash! You're trash, your mother's trash, your sister's trash, your ancestors are trash! Heck, even your pet gerbil is trash!" Parter's advanced hearing picked up a squeak and he turned to see a gerbil flying out JM's window, obviously propelled by her father. "Speaking of trash, why don't you leave and go stand by some garbage cans to converse with a nerdy neighbour in order to pick up your morale despite my verbally abusive ranting?!!"

JM walked out the door of her house, flustered by her father's gerbil-throwing and screams of "TRASH!". She saw Parter standing by his own garbage cans, looking scared.

"Were you listening to that?" asked JM, not bothering to say "hello".
"No, no...well, yes, I was. But not in an eavesdropping sense. I kind of heard it, and decided to keep listening instead of going back into my house." Parter stammered nervously.
"I guess you can always hear it. Your Aunt and Uncle never fight."
"Oh, they can scream pretty good sometimes. My Aunt June was an opera singer."
There was an awkward pause...then:
"I'm sorry for, you know, beating you up and destroying your masculinity in front of the whole school like that." JM said.
"It's Ok," Parter replied, "they never thought I had any masculinity in the first place. How's Blur?"
"He'll be alright. He's just upset that all the damage was done above the neck, because of the school photos and all. Your claws, I never noticed them before."
"I kind of hide them..." Parter murmured, not wanting to delve into this subject.
"Don't." JM said, and smiled at him. Suddenly, a car pulled up and the driver, Blur, called to JM. He was wearing bandages around his face, and resembled the Invisible Man. Parter suppressed a giggle.
"Hey, JM! Come take a ride in my new Halloween present!"
"Oooh! It's gorgeous!" JM shrieked, forgetting instantly about Parter and running towards the brilliant pink Cadillac. She jumped in, and with a scream of "YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" they took off, leaving Parter to cough in the dust and dead leaves the car's wheels threw back.
"Cool car." muttered Parter, and he turned back to his house.

A few minutes later, back inside, Parter was looking through the advertisements selling vehicles. His eyes flicked over such beauties as the Hummer H2, and eventually came to rest on a used bicycle. But then, a brightly colored advertisement came to his attention (the rest of the ads were black and white for some reason). It was the same one that he found on the floor in school, advertising a wrestling league. Looking carefully at the fine print, he saw that his opponent was named "Toothdrill McGill", and it was at that moment that Parter decided that it would be McGill's teeth feeling the drill.

Being in a wrestling league meant that he would need a costume of course, and he sat down and started designing various outfits. After spending the night drawing - curiously, his Aunt and Uncle never returned home - it came down to one of two designs. He decided on the gray and red suit with spaces for skin flaps, because the red and blue costume with a web pattern and spider symbol didn't feel "Glider-y" enough. With a costume designed, Parter felt self-assured that he would gain victory and $5000 to woo JM with...

[Agent Thermal]

Of course, in order to fully ensure his victory over Toothdrill McGill, he would HAVE to practice his Glider abilities. So, the very next morning (Saturday morning), Parter skipped his normal cartoon watching in order to focus his attention solely on developing his powers properly.

In order to develop his powers properly, Parter decided that the best course of action would be to tear up his room with his retractable claws, even if his aunt and uncle were within earshot downstairs.

With that, Parter extended his claws and started shredding everything in sight, including his bed, his computer, his aquarium, and even his innumerable 1st place science fair trophies. The carnage ended within seconds, his room a total wreck.

I'm starting to get the hang of this...he thought to himself with pride. Besides, I needed new stuff in here anyway.

Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on his door.

"Parter, what in God's green-ish blue-ish white-ish Earth is going on in there!?" demanded a distraught Aunt June. Obviously, she'd heard the noise he hadn't bothered to subdue.

"Hey Aunt June, what's happnin'?" answered Parter innocently, cracking the door open just enough to see her but also to disallow her from seeing his room.

"I heard things crashing and cloth ripping - is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine - I'm just exercising! I'm not dressed, Aunt June..."

"What are you doing exercising naked, dear?"

"Uhhhh.......hey, isn't Golden Girls on?"

"Oh, you're right! Sorry to bother you, honey."

Parter closed the door gently behind the quickly-retreating Aunt June, a sigh of relief escaping his respiratory system.

Meanwhile...in the Ozzybourne Mansion...

Truman gazed upon the Weekly World Report with utter horror...

He'd always known that alien zebras would one day take over Turkmenistan through the water supply.

If only those fools at Aquafina had listened...he thought to himself.

Quickly turning to the back page of the black-and-white newspaper, he saw what he feared second most - a gigantic article on the "End of OzzyInc?"!

With ever-rising dread, he scanned the article quickly, not even stopping to actually read it, but to instead read the title and look up into the ceiling with grief. According to what words he'd managed to pick from the article, he remembered seeing "Best Aerospace" and "company upheaval" and "recall of all flavourless sugar cubes" and "pink slip" and "revenge is very likely" and "let's just hope he isn't a homicidal super-powered maniac" and stuff like that.

Suddenly, he heard a distant cackle...it sounded somewhat like a dry heave mixed with the sound of phlegm being coughed up, but it was still menacing in its own way. Truman dropped the tabloid and looked about the gigantic room, searching for the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from both the room around him...and from within himself.

"HEY DAD!" yelled Larry from out of nowhere, causing Truman to whip around and hiss with bared teeth.

"OH...it's just you, son..." sighed Truman with relief, simultaneously turning his teeth-baring into a subtle grin. Larry had been standing right behind him the entire time.

"Yeah - pretty cool laugh, huh? I heard it from some alien dude on that Sci-Fi Channel movie...hey, dad, you look kinda...pale. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, I'm just fine..." bemused Truman falsely. "I just...need some rest, is all."

"You always say that whenever you finish doing something weird and someone discovers you doing it!"

"Well, it's this stuff that's been going on with the company and everything...you wouldn't understand, being a kid and all."

"But daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddd..."

"Don't you 'BUT DAD' me! I've had enough of this pointless conversation! You go to your room NOW!"

"But dad, my room's got every conceivable gaming system in it with a surround sound system and 72 inch wall-mounted plasma television! Do I HAVE to???"

"NOW, MISTER!"

Larry ran off, crying bitterly.

Truman turned back around and picked up his tabloid in order to scan some more - and he noticed something that he didn't want to notice.

His hands had gone back to gray and scaly form, just as he'd experienced in that strange dream he had about killing Dr. Strumm and some costume-shop cashier guy. He quickly turned to his human-size wall mirror, only to discover that his entire body had reverted back to the gray, scaly monstrosity - pointy ears and all.

Obviously, anger triggered the physical transformation in him - and he had plenty of it. With the threat of the company going under, his son giving him a hard time, and the overall stress of being "Mr. Ozzy," as his employees called him combined - it was too much for a sane man to take.

And that was why it was only natural to go IN-sane.

[Démon]

"There's something the matter with him, June." Uncle Ken said as he sat at the dinner table; Aunt June was striding around the kitchen aimlessly, looking for random chores to do. "Maybe he's afraid to tell me what it is, maybe I'm too afraid to ask him. Actually, it's more likely that he's afraid to tell me, being so reclusive and all."
At that note, Parter half-ran, half-fell down the stairs in obvious haste. Uncle Ken stood up and followed him down the hall.
"Hey, Part, what's the rush?"
"Oh, I'm just going to the...um...Museum of Tupperware...to do research on the most durable plastic containers for class." Parter lied.
"Great, great! I'll drive you there!" said his uncle, enthusiastically jumping on the chance to corner his nephew and have a potentially embarassing talk about the changes that occur during the teenage years.
"No, it's okay. I'll call a cab, take a train, glide above the city..." Parter stammered, hurriedly pulling on a jacket.
"No, no, I insist on driving you. Come on." Uncle Ken replied, not quite registering the "glide above the city" comment. He shoved Parter roughly through the door, winked at Aunt June, and herded his nephew into the car.

5 hours later, they finally arrived in front of the Museum. It would've taken minutes, if only if it were not for the fact that Uncle Ken drove a horseless carriage that needed the crank rotated every hundred meters. Parter kept his head low, ashamed to be seen in the vehicle. The ABBA music his uncle had blaring on the radio didn't help matters. Upon parking, Uncle Ken turned down "Mamma Mia" and turned to his ready-to-flee nephew.
"Don't worry about coming to pick me up in a few hours, Uncle Ken. I'll call a cab." Parter said, as he prepared to open the door.
"Sit down, Part. We need to have a talk."
"About what?" asked Parter, both surprised and irritated.
"About you. Your grades have been slipping, you skip school, you forget your chores, your laundry pile's attracting various harmful bacteria, you've been getting into fights in hallways..."
"I didn't start that fight!"
"You sure as H-E-double hockey sticks never finished it either. Beaten up by the girl next door." Uncle Ken shook his head. "Anyway, you're changing. I know that. I went through the same thing at your age."
Grinning inwardly at the irony of that statement, Parter muttered "No, not exactly..."
"Parter, these changes. It's the feeling of becoming a man-"
"I already know this, I took Biology." interrupted the nervous teenager.
"Well, I just want to say. Just because you can scratch up this..."Blur" Stompson's face, it doesn't mean that you should. It'd probably have been more masculine if you punched him, too."
"So, what? Am I supposed to run away?"
"No, you're not supposed to run away..."
"But what do I do if I can't fight or run?" asked Parter.
Uncle Ken thought for a moment. "Well, maybe you could sort of half-fight, and half-run."
"Okay, that makes no sense!"
"I know, I know. Please, for a moment, listen to me. You're getting stronger, I can tell. By growing up, you've gained strength and power. Just remember, nephew...if you ever trap a tentacled maniac named Professor Squid in a TV station's cafeteria, always remember this - with cool abilities...comes a gigantic pile of misery and troubles."

As odd as this comment was, it didn't deflect Parter's annoyance.
"Something's different, give me time, I'll figure it out. Just stop giving me mysterious advice, please!"
"Look, I know I'm not your father..."
"Then stop being such an adequate and kind-hearted father substitute!" Parter yelled in a surge of teenage hormones.
A pained expression crossed Uncle Ken's face, and he turned away from his nephew.
"Alright...I'll be here to pick you up later..."
Parter, unreasonably angry with his uncle, slammed the door. He waited for several minutes while Uncle Ken turned the crank on the carriage and eventually drove away. He waited until the carriage was out of sight, and headed for the Wrestling League...

[Agent Thermal]

........................

Parter climbed the metal steps that led to the uppermost balcony overlooking the carnage unfolding below. The second he reached the top, he gazed in awe at the horrifically-violent-yet-conveniently-bloodless spectacle before him. The fabled "Toothdrill McGill" was tearing up the "competition" (for lack of a better term) effortlessly, throwing each unlucky soul left and right, slamming them on the back of the head with beanbag chairs, and making sure he gave them a good dental "checkup" before they left. Needless to say, no one was yet able to last for the set limit of 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds. But Parter, despite his current urge to pee, knew that if ANYONE was going to be able to do it, it would be him. Or maybe JM.

At the sign-up counter...

"C'mon, sign me up!" begged Parter relentlessly, he being last in line due to the fact that he had forgotton to put an entry slit in his costume.

"Ah SAYED NO!" retorted the sign-up lady behind the booth. "We have a STRICT policy regardin' nerds, and as fun as it is to see them get BEAT DOWN, we've had too many lawsuits to evuh do it ageyun. You GOT ME?"

"Lady, look - I'm not your ordinary nerd. I need that $5,000, and I have just so happened to obtain SUPER POWERS. Watch."

And with that, Parter extended his arm and withdrew his claws through the tiny holes cut in his gloves. Of course, the lady had seen better gimmicks before.

"Nice try kid, but I'm tellin' you, you CAN'T GET IN. What part of that don't you understand?'

"I'm not DONE YET! Watch THIS!"

Parter then demonstrated his strength by grabbing the lady by the wrists and lifting her up off the seat effortlessly (which was rather extraordinary, considering her weight). Instead of being impressed, the lady screamed for security and kicked repeatedly at his crotch, which he dodged systematically with Glider-like agility.

"We can stand here all day if you want, or we can sign me up - take your pick..." said Parter smoothly.

With that, the lady finally slowed her panic-induced hysteria and shakily nodded in agreement.

-------------------------------------

After wiping the pepper spray out of his eyes for a few minutes, Parter hobbled over to the area that was situated right behind the curtain that presented each "challenger" (for lack of better term) to the audience. Parter couldn't see it, but he could hear the mayhem going on just on the other side of the curtain. Slams, bangs, whirrs of a drill, muffled groans of dental-discomfort, and finally, the bell that ended the current match. Parter knew he was next.

"Is there NO ONE that can challenge this mountain of manliness, this paragon of pain-inducement, this deity of dentistry!? ANYONE!?" yelled the ring announcer tauntingly to the crowd.

The crowd booed loudly and shouted random unintelligible statements.

"I know who might be able to..." the slick-haired announcer said to the audience with wry grin on his face. He then backed up nonchalantly to the curtain where he could introduce Parter.

Parter listened with bladder-twisting excitement as the ring announcer began.

"Ladies and gentlemen - well, actually, there are no ladies here, except those really manly ones in leather that serve the sole purposes of exhibiting a desperate attempt at 'sex appeal' and engaging in disgusting janitorial chores - anyway, GENTLEMEN: he's scrawny, he's a rodent, he glides like a kite and stings like a belly-flop, he's the.....uhh......"

The announcer turned to the curtain and whispered intently:

"What am I supposed to call you, kid?"

Parter could hardly contain his excitement.

"Gliderman, please. And I'm a marsupial, not a ro-"

"What? 'GLIDERMAN'!? That's stupid! You have organic claws, not homemade ones that come out of gloves you invented! I know what I'll call you..."

"No, wait!"

"LADIEEEEES AND GENTLEMEN....THE ASTOUNDING...."

He paused for effect.

"MAN-GLIDER!!!"

"What?" objected Parter. "I specifically requested that you-WHOA!"

He was instantly shoved out into the light-and-sweat filled arena by the aforementioned leather-clad man-women as he attempted to finish his objection. Parter looked around at the bewildered audience, not really thinking of ANYTHING substantial as he was roughly guided to the ring in which Toothdrill McGill waited.....with a mischievous, pearly-white grin on his face.

[Démon]

Parter, or the "Astounding Man-Glider", found himself shunted into the wrestling ring, face to face with "Toothdrill" McGill. McGill, wearing a spandex outfit that dentists probably wouldn't wear to work, grinned eagerly.
"Er, hi?" said Parter, holding his hand over his eyes to protect them from the blinding gleam of McGill's flawless teeth. Suddenly, an odd grinding noise pierced his sensitive ears, and he looked above him to see a massive cage being lowered over the ring. Panicking, he ran over to the turnbuckle and began calling to the nearby staff - who were standing on the floor with chains and locks at the ready.
"There must be some kind of mistake! I didn't sign up for a cage match!" he squealed desperately. They ignored his protests, and locked the doors of the cage. Parter was trapped. He turned to see McGill smirking at him.
"Hey, geek-show! You're going nowhere!" said McGill, trying to intimidate him for the entertainment of the bloodthirsty crowd. "I've got you for 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds. 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds of pain!"
The intimidation worked. Parter began scrambling backwards and trying to climb up the cage. The bell rang, and McGill charged blindly at him - despite the fact that Parter was already climbing the cage wall. Unfortunately for Parter, this tactic worked. McGill headbutted the cage, and the Astounding Man-Glider lost his grip on the metal links, landing hard on the apron.
"What were you doin' up there?!" McGill yelled, looming above him.
"Pathetically attempting to stay away from you! Say, those are nice teeth. Does your dentist brush them for you?" Parter retorted, attempting to use a quick and witty remark to enfuriate McGill to the point of stupidity.

It didn't work.

If Parter had seen one of the previous fights during the time he was attempting to convince the woman to let him sign up, he would've known that humor is not effective in distracting McGill. His years as a dental practitioner trained him to the point of being entirely focused on his work; a fact soon learned by his previous victim, "Comical" Curt Comedo, as he was taken away on a gurney with a broken funny bone and various other mangled limbs.
Parter soon realized this himself, when McGill had grabbed him by the head and started swinging him bodily into the cage walls. The crowd cried with laughter as they watched the wrestler relentlessly smash his "opponent" (A term used loosely) into any surface in his radius.
After a minute of this, McGill dropped the bruised and battered nerd onto the floor, and went to one of the leather-clad, masculine women to obtain an instrument of torture. "She" (Another term used loosely) handed him a dentist's drill with an encouraging yell of "Fix his Glider-teeth! YEAH!". However, the temporary pause in the wrestler's assault gave Parter to get back on his feet, and he stood poised for the fight when McGill turned around, wielding his weapon of tooth-drilling terror.
With a high-pitched scream of Glider-fury, Parter leapt at "Toothdrill". Taken by surprise at this brave - and possibly, stupid - act, McGill didn't know how to react when he found himself being propelled into the chain-link fence by a marsupial-enhanced dropkick. He also didn't know how to react when he found himself being swung up and then bounced off the floor repeatedly by his ankles.
Parter, full of confidence and raging hormones, decided to end this match with a bang. He yanked the drill from the dazed McGill's hand, and smacked him over the head with the handle of it, knocking out the wrestler and two of his precious teeth. The bell rang again as the cage began ascending to the ceiling once more, and the slick-haired ring announcer slid into the ring. Quite literally; because his hair gel allowed him to slide across the surface of the apron.
The announcer grabbed Parter's arm and lifted it into the air, proclaiming to the crowd the victor.
"Let's have a hand for the new champion, the ASTOUNDING MAN-GLIDER!" yelled the announcer.
"It's Glider-Man..." muttered Parter in irritation, but the announcer couldn't hear him over the boos of the crowd. They ducked for cover as popcorn, various beverages, and half-melted chocolate bars pelted the entire ring without mercy. Leaving McGill and the now-unconcious ring announcer (Who got a rather nasty smack to the head from a Charleston Chew bar) to be eaten by the ants that would soon be attracted to the food that landed on them, Parter fled the arena as a riot of Scottish magnitude erupted. There was one thought on his mind, and that was getting his money and buying himself a vehicle that was sure to make Jerri Mayne stare. Whether it would be in adoration or disgust, he wasn't sure, but at least she would look at him.


Again, sorry for the delay. I've got exams coming up, and a fair amount of stuff happening at school.

[Agent Thermal]

*Bump for preservation* :cool:

[Agent Thermal]

At the pay-up desk...

The man behind the desk laid out a check addressed to "The Astounding Man-Glider," then promptly filled out "$4,999.99" inside the tiny box. He then promptly slid the check across the table to the expectant nerd-in-spandex. Parter continued to stand there, a goofy AND? look on his face.

The money man gave Parter a disgusted look.

"Now make like a tree and split!" he barked to Parter.

"But the ad in the paper thingy said five thousand, I remember!" protested Parter pathetically.

"YES, it did, but that was if you lasted 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds - and you knocked him out in 5 minutes, 33 seconds, and 43.8 milliseconds! Therefore, you don't get your full pay - and you're lucky to get that! Besides, I need that penny for somethin'...."

"But the ad never said anything that specific! I looked for fine print!"

"We don't call it 'fine' for nothin', kid - it was microscopically engraved upon the wood fibers in the paper, so that only those who knew about it beforehand would actually be able to read it. Life's tough, kid - how do you think I ended up running a run-down, second-rate wrestling league, making sure I obsess over pennies? I got a family too, ya know! NOW MAKE LIKE TIGHT PANTS AND SPLIT!"

"You don't understand - I NEED that penny - otherwise, I'm not gonna be able to afford that sweet ride that I need to potentially grab the attention of a girl I have very little chance of impressing in the first p-"

"Wait a minute," the man interjected. "Hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Parter naively.

"...that sound......I believe that's the sound of NO ONE CARING!!! Well, except you."

Suddenly, a haggard-looking-yet-strangely-familiar man burst in through the doors, giving the man behind the desk a daggar-like glare.

He threw a small zipper pouch at the money man, smacking him in the face with it in the process.

After sputtering, the money man declared: "Hey, what da h-"

"Don't cuss - I do not appreciate obscenities - besides, there are kids present," the haggard intruder interrupted, giving a quick look to Parter. "Now put the fare in the bag, like you're supposed to do as a law-abiding citizen."

"Aw, fine..." the money man said begrudgingly, simultaneously inserting a shiny penny into the zippered pouch. He then handed the pouch over to the fare-demander, scowl still ever-present.

"Good evening, sir," said the intruder to the money man, "and good evening to you too, son," he finished to a bewildered Parter. With that, the man left - just as quickly as he'd come, it seemed.

MAN that guy looks familiar...thought Parter to himself. And who WAS he, anyway?

"He was my cab driver this morning....I needed to back out of my driveway, and the fare for that is one cent..." responded the money-LESS man to Parter, as if he'd read his mind. "Weird to think that, being a cab driver, he didn't like cussing."

The money man leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Man, and I NEEDED that penny too...."

"Wait a minute, hear that?" said Parter.

"Hear what?" said the money man, already assuming where this was going.

"Oh, wait, never mind - thought I heard something," said Parter, shrugging his shoulders. "Later, sir...."

Out on the street...

Parter sullenly sulked down the street to the pre-determined meeting spot, still downtrodden over his penniless-ness. Not even the joy of actually defeating a notable wrestler in physical combat elevated his mood.

Just before he turned the corner of the street that led right to the meeting spot, he heard a sickening and ear-shattering THUD and CRASH of metal. Running quickly around the corner, he beheld something that made him wish he hadn't...

On the sidewalk lay dear Uncle Ken, ironically in a funeral-casket position - flat on his back, hand crossed over his heart. On the road next to where he lay, a seemingly-innocent cab was parked, the driver within staring at his uncle in bewilderment and shock.

With a scream of rage, nerdiness, and grief, Parter sprinted over to his uncle and knelt beside him. In his uncle's quivering eyes, he could see regret building, and life leaving.

"Parter..." Uncle Ken croaked. "I....I...."

"Shhhh, don't say anything...it might hurt ya..." said Parter desperately, tears welling up within his eye sockets.

"Too late for that, nephew..." grinned Uncle Ken wryly with a cough.

"No, call me son..." whimpered Parter. "I shouldn't have treated you the way I did in the horseless carriage about that whole 'father/son' thing...if only I'd just left that money guy earlier....man, all this for a STUPID PENNY!"

"Will ya listen to what I'm tryin' to tell ya?" gasped Uncle Ken. "I need ya to.....to take that carriage thing to get it fixed.....the crank won't turn anymore....that's why I had to call a cab, and then this mess happened..."

"No, no, it's okay, I can use the money I got at the wrestling thing to fix-"

"What wrestling thing?" asked Uncle Ken, suddenly slightly rejuvenated with suspicion.

"Uh, never mind that now...we need to call an ambulance or something..."

"And why are you dressed like a dork?" asked Uncle Ken with further suspicion, referring to Parter's still being dressed in his makeshift Gliderman outfit.

"That's not important now....what YOU need is some help..." said Parter desperately, trying to change the subject as quick as possible. He didn't want his uncle dying with suspicion on the brain...

"Nope....too late for that too..." Ken croaked. "Don't worry, Parter.....I did some thinking after you left, and I think I'm starting to finally figure you out..."

"You are?" asked a more worried Parter.

"Yep...." Uncle Ken wheezed, his voice getting dangerously weaker as time elapsed. "My boy.....he's becoming....."

"Yeah?"

".....he's becoming......"

"YEAH?"

".....he's becoming......."

"YES!? WHAT?"

"Don't talk back to your uncle like that, son. Anyway, as I was saying......my boy, he's becoming................."

Precious seconds went by, and dead silence constituted the gap.

Uncle Ken never finished his sentence.

With a whimper unlike any other, Parter slowly stood up, tears streaming down the ridges in his scrunched-up cheeks. The crowd of gathered people and policeman that had come to witness the emotional spectacle all gasped silently.

"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT?" yelled Parter in further rage and guilt. "HAVEN'T YOU GUYS EVER SEEN A DEAD GUY BEFORE?"

Taken aback, the crowd slowly dissipated - that is, everyone except the police.

"WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT WITH HIM, HUH!?" yelled Parter in naive rage, his eyes burning with redness and tears.

"Uh....it's our job, son...you know, documenting stuff and all that?" one of the officers responded.

"Oh....okay, never mind...." said a defeated Parter, who kept his head down as he slowly made his way past the officers.

And then, it hit him. Well, actually, the thing that hit UNCLE KEN hit him - mentally.

Parter slowly turned back around to face the cab that sat in the parking space, the driver within still awestruck.

"Youuu...." hissed Parter as he stomped back toward the vehicle.

Turning to see him, the driver yelped and slammed on the accelerator, plowing through the parked car in front of him and into the street. Parter pulled his mask over his face and spread out his arms defiantly - the chase was on.

[Démon]

Arms spread, Parter pounded down the pavement, keeping an eye on the cab and clotheslining multiple bystanders as he ran. Realizing that he wasn't going to lift off just by running, he jumped into the air and felt the somewhat familiar sensation of becoming computer animated.
The cab swerved in and out of traffic while a gathering force of police cars and angry bicyclists accumulated behind it. Parter shakily weaved between streetlights as he tried to track the vehicle's progress. When the cab finally slowed down and turned on its turning indicator lights at an intersection, he landed on its roof with a thud and a grunt of pain.

"What the-?" the cabbie yelled, and quickly reached for a convenient water pistol the child of a previous customer had left in the car. He sped through the turn, and leaned out the window with the squirt gun, desperately trying to dampen his attacker.
Parter dodged the spurts of water with astonishing speed as he leaned over the driver's side and attempted to remove the not-so-dangerous weapon from the cabbie's hand. The taxi jerked back and forth as they struggled over the toy, ignoring the other vehicles smashing into each other as they attempted to move out of the way.
"Get off, you idiot!" the driver screamed, trying to tug the pistol back through the window. Parter obediently let go and jumped off the vehicle. The cabbie smiled to himself triumphantly as he turned to see the gate of a warehouse speeding towards him.

SMASH!!!

The cabbie was pitched straight through the windshield and flew through the hole made in the gate from the impact. Parter jumped onto the compacted hood of the car, and watched as the man slid along the floor and into the darkness of the warehouse. He quickly jumped in after him.
After getting to his feet, the cabbie ran to the nearest door, and began trying to open it furiously, hearing the approaching police sirens and "ding-ding!" of bicycle bells. He desperately flung himself against the door twice, before he felt something catch hold of him.
"GOING SOMEWHERE?!" squeaked Parter, as he bounced the surprised cab driver off the door.
"I was - OW! - just about to! ARGH!" yelled the cabbie in response. Parter threw the man from him, and he landed on the floor, once again sliding oddly.
The cab driver got to his feet angrily, thinking that it was time to get serious. He pulled a Swiss army knife from inside his cabbie overcoat and fiddled with it. Trying to keep things "PG", he settled with the corkscrew attachment, and began swinging it furiously at the shadowy figure in front of him.
The angry teenager quickly ducked these pathetic attacks and kicked the corkscrew out of his foe's hand. It flew up and stuck into the ceiling with an odd BOING! Deciding to attempt to look stylish, Parter jumped up and grabbed the handle - prepared to kick his opponent - but instead, his weight pulled it free from the ceiling and he dropped painfully on his tailbone. He heard a loud "Ooooooh!" and turned to see a crowd of people - police officers included - peering in through the hole in the gate, amazed by the spectacle.

"Look out!" yelled one of the spectators, and Parter turned back to see that his temporary nemesis was attempting to escape through yet another locked door. He quickly ran over to the man and spun him around. He lifted him by the shirt collar, and heard a Click! as the man's back brushed against a light switch. The room was illuminated, and Parter got a good look at the the guy's face.

"YOU!"

Parter let the cabbie go and backed away slowly in horror. He knew that face, he saw it before. Twice, actually.

"YOU!" he exclaimed once again, inadequately demonstrating actual recognition of the man in front of him.
"That's right. Me." said the cabbie, grimly.
"You're the same cabbie who took my penny! And you were the ring announcer!" Parter yelled in disbelief. The crowd by the gate "Oooooh!"ed in sitcom fashion. "I'm not going to ask how you managed to be two people at once, but I'm going to make sure you're punished for killing my uncle!"
"Really?" the cabbie replied, with an evil grin. Parter looked down to see the water pistol aimed directly at his heart. "See ya."
Shaking his head at this foolishness, Parter easily grabbed the pistol out of his hand and proceeded to break his wrist for good measure.
The cabbie yelled in pain and backed towards a large, spontaneously generated window. The costumed superhero-to-be advanced towards him, but at that moment, the cab driver tripped backwards over a hazardly placed pipe. Parter watched as the man responsible for running down his uncle broke through the glass and fell screaming to the ground below - the warehouse was inexplicably placed on the edge of a twenty foot drop.

He leaned out the window and looked down, and saw the man lying on a pile of mattresses and pillows amongst other warehouse goods just lying out there. The cabbie sat up and smirked up at him, before suddenly clutching his heart. He spasmed a bit, and then fell backwards onto the mattress. No wonder, Parter thought, spotting a fat-loaded, sugary, deep-fried snack's wrapper poking out of the cabbie's pocket.
"Wouldn't want to be ya." quipped Parter in Arnold Schwartzenegger fashion, turning to meet the applause of the police officers and various civilians who had poured in through the broken gate.
"Dude, that was SOOO awesome!" yelled one guy.
"Yeah, way to go, man!" cried a police officer.
"I just KILLED A MAN!" Parter burst out, disturbed by the cheers of the spectators at the cabbie's unfortunate-yet-oddly-funny demise.
"Who cares? It looked cool!" screamed a little boy from the crowd.
"You people make me SICK!" yelled Parter, as he spread his arm flaps and jumped out the window. The cries of admiration and congratulations followed him as he glode (Or glided, who cares anymore?) into the night.


---

Sorry for the delay in adding this. I've been pretty busy, making and selling comics. Hope y'all enjoyed.

[Agent Thermal]

Tears flowed from Aunt June's cheeks, like a salty river busting through the Tear Duct Dam. The unspeakable grief, the indescribable sadness - it was too much for a now-widowed old lady to take. She couldn't believe it. But there it was, on the TV.

"HE WAS THE PERFECT MAN!!!" June cried out to the TV screen. "AND YOU DUMPED HIM, JENNY! HOW COULD YOU!? Oh well, it doesn't matter - you didn't deserve a man like Forrest anyway!!"

Suddenly, the front door creaked open slowly, and her beloved nephew sauntered into the living room, head hung low. His Gliderman outfit had been stuffed inside the tote bag he was carrying, thereby concealing it from Aunt June's prying eyes. He looked mournfully at Aunt June, her tears telling him all he thought he needed to know.

"Oh Aunt June..." he whimpered, running into her arms. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this...I only wanted to make some money...I....I didn't mean for him to die...."

"WHOA, back up buddy..." she yelped, jerking away from him. "You're dealin' that DOPE mess, aren't ya? I TOLD you not to hang out with those Murphey boys! You're supposed to say 'NO' to that stuff, remember? Like we talked about a few nights back!!!"

"Wait a minute, WHAT? NO, no, not that!!! I meant th-"

"I thought you were supposed to be home 3 hours ago! Where's your uncle/dad-substitute?"

"You mean..." he croaked, "...you didn't hear?"

"Hear what, honey? I've been watching Forrest Gump this whole time, while I was waiting for you! What happened?"

"Oh, no WONDER you were crying....well, it'd probably be best if you turned it off and looked at the news....I.......I can't.....can't tell you what happened...."

With that, Parter began sobbing miserably and ran up to his room with Glider-like sadness and speed, Aunt June looking on in further confusion. Shrugging her shoulders, June shuffled over to her armchair, stopped the movie, and turned to the local news.

----------------

Parter listened to her reaction through the door for a few seconds, then heard the wailing. He buried his face deep into the pillow and sobbed further, not wanting to hear his aunt's pain any more than he had to.

----------------

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY LOST AGAIN!!! STUPID COWBOYS!!! THAT'S IT - WE NEED TO FIRE JOE GIBBS NOW!!!" she wailed miserably.

The news program then went on with its next story:

"And some just-as-sad news today...."

----------------

At some deserty-type place near a military installation in Washington D.C.

"Glad you could make it, General!" exclaimed the exoskeleton-armor dealer to General Hokum. "What could I interest you in today?"

"Enough with the spill, just show me whatcha got," spat General Hokum sternly as he exited his recently-arrived Hummer.

The dealer nodded in acknowledgement and led the general to one of the "showroom" models positioned in the middle of one of the desert clearings.

"Very well, sir - well, if you look over here, you'll see our latest model: the 670B Obliterator XE - first of its kind, let me tell ya. STANDARD heat-seeking missles and air conditioning. 150,000-kilometer gun-to-gun warranty. No strings attached."

"I like the sound of that - what kind of interior?"

"Well, this particular model comes with standard cloth, somewhat of a charcoal gray/military pukey-green shade, but it IS offered in Golden Sand leather."

"Hmmm, I can live with the cloth - hate getting shocked on the door every time I get out, but I think I'll manage. Tell me - what's a dealership like you doing out in the middle of a desert - and why is there a desert actually NEAR Washington, anyway?"

"I don't really know, sir - but the property rates were to DIE for, so who were we to say no?"

"To DIE FOR, HMMMMMM?" bellowed an amplified-yet-menacing voice from the sky. "I LIKE THE SOUND OF THAT!"

"What th-" began General Hokum in confusion and vague dread, searching the night sky for the source of the utterance. In mere moments, the silhouette of a flying scooter shot out of the blackness of night, revealing its flowery purple exterior and flowing rainbow streamers. Situated upon that was an entirely gray-clad creature, strangely resembling a hybrid between a Gremlin from the apt-titled movie and a gray Power Ranger. Piled up within the handbasket attached to the front of the hover scooter were the weapons of his soon-to-come destruction.

PUMPKINS.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" yelled the salesman. "DON'T YOU DARE DROP THOSE PUMPKINS ON THIS ARMOR, YOU HEAR ME?"

"OH, I WOULDN'T WORRY ABOUT THAT..." yelled the flying gremlin-ranger thing. "NOT IF I WAS UNCONSCIOUS, THAT IS! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

And with that, it picked up a sizable pumpkin from its basket and threw it directly at General Hokum's head, from several stories up. Though he attempted to run back towards the Hummer, the General's feeble escape attempt proved all for naught. With a sickening splat, the large, tough fruit connected directly on target.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" yelled the salesman further. "HE WAS A POTENTIAL BUYER!!!"

"And YOU'RE a potential DIER!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

Its maniacal-ness (and the escalating lame-ness of its jokes) raged on even further as the creature hurled yet another pumpkin, this time at the salesman. Another sickening splat occurred, but its sound was overpowered by the volume of the monster's laughter as it flew into the night sky, the tiny bell ding-ing all the way in mockery of the "carnage."

[Démon]

Ding-ding-ding-ding!

The school bell rang for a final time as the graduating students and their parents/guardians exited the school. It's the end of the school year.

"Cheddar!" grinned Parter as he and his fellow "Go Fish!" Club Members stood to have their picture taken. The camera flashed and the group dispersed. Aunt June made her way towards Parter.

"Congratulations on winning the 'Most Eligible to be a Carnival Eyesore' award, Parter! I'm so proud!" gushed his elderly Aunt, before a fellow parent took her aside for plot convenience.

Not too far from Parter, Truman was appraising Larry's graduation.
"An 'A+' in Biology, an 'A+' in Physics, an 'A+' in Home Economics...what's this?"
"What's what?" asked Larry, glancing over his father's shoulder at the report card.
"An 'A' in English?" Truman gave his son a strict glare. Larry began stammering, but Truman cut through. "Larry, you're an Ozzybourne! A mere 'A' in English?! You're lucky you never failed! As an Ozzybourne, you're expected to get at least an 'A+' or higher!"
"But Dad, an 'A' is an extremely high mark, and you can't get higher than an 'A+'!"
"This is not satisfactory, mister! I expected much better of you!" Truman said with uncharacteristic anger.
"But Dad-!" Larry began, before Truman turned his back on him and focused his paternal attention on an unknowing Parter.
"So, Parter, the 'Most Eligible to be a Carnival Eyesore" award? That's great..."

Larry, feeling dejected, turned around and noticed Blur and JM standing away from the crowd. They appeared to be having an argument.
"...and you can keep your lousy $24,000 ring!" JM was saying, shoving a piece of jewelery into Blur's hand.
"You know what? Whatever. I don't care. It doesn't matter to me. I couldn't be fussed. I'm not gonna cry over it..." Blur said, failing to notice that JM had already left half-way through his assurances of apathy. "...Water under the bridge..." continued the jock.
A curious expression of interest crossed Larry's face.

" 'Commencement', Parter. 'The end of one thing, the start of something new.'." smiled Truman. "Did you like that one? I got it from a sugar packet...Anyway, I know you've been having a difficult time, and even though this is a horrible time to remind you of the massive tragedy that introduced so much turmoil to your lives, it's my duty as a potential replacement father figure to induce a feeling of longing and despair over the one you lost."
"Er, yeah, thanks..." muttered Parter, walking away, confused and depressed.

Later that evening, Parter sat in his room, tears running slowly down his face as he stared at his award. Aunt June silently moved into the room. So silently, that Parter screamed when he turned and saw the old woman right behind him. Clutching his chest and almost hyperventilating, he gasped out "I...really...missed him...today..."
"Me, too, sweetie." said his Aunt gently, putting a frail, comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I mean, it's so unfair that he couldn't be there today...it's been only a few months since he passed away..." Parter muttered, wiping tears from his bewilderingly scrunched-up face.
"I know...I know...I miss Pope John Paul, too..." she replied soothingly.
"Pope John Pa-? I'm talking about UNCLE KEN!" shouted Parter, jumping to his feet.
"Ken? Do you mean he's...?" Aunt June gasped, putting her hand over her mouth.
"Uh, YES! Haven't you noticed that he's been absent from our lives for the past while?!"
"I-I...well, you know, he never did much around the house, besides lounging around...it's kind of understandable that I wouldn't have noticed a difference..."
"But you gave Blinky the Goldfish a funeral when HE died last month!" Parter yelled in disbelief, "You cried for two weeks!"
Aunt June sighed. "Well, I guess you just get so used to seeing somebody doing nothing...you can't believe it when they actually DO something, like dying..." She began to break down into sobs. Parter, immediately losing his indignation, sat down to comfort her.

------

Again, sorry for the delay. I've had a research paper and I'm doing exams. Craziness. :hyper:

[spiderfreek182]

ey, i found it!

[Agent Thermal]

Hey, I know that name! :D

Try not to reveal any spoilers to the others though, okay? :p

[spiderfreek182]

o'kay

[Agent Thermal]

Aunt June left the room, the reality of her marital status still taking its time to sink in. As Parter's door slowly closed, Uncle Ken's haunting words began to somehow echo throughout his head:

"Always remember this - with cool abilities...comes a gigantic pile of misery and troubles...with cool abilities...comes a gigantic pile of misery and troubles...with cool abilities...comes a gigantic pile of misery and troubles...with cool abilities...comes a gigantic pile of misery and troubles...with co-"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Parter into the air, putting his hands over his ears. The sounds magically stopped.

"THANK you....geez, I get the point already..." he muttered, searching through his tote bag for his wrestling/future-superhero costume. As he found it and picked it up, he gazed upon the makeshift Gliderman logo (which looked something like this):

http://img150.exs.cx/img150/9470/glidermanlogo0ul.jpg

...and suddenly realized what his calling should be.

Just think how many OTHER Uncle Kens there are out there, just minding their business but still getting killed! Just think about all those poor people out there who lose their money and/or lives, all because the police were too slow! Just think of all the potential supervillains that might form at any moment! I have a responsibility as a nerd with superpowers - a responsibility to DO WHAT THE POLICE CAN'T DO OR DON'T FEEL LIKE DOING!!

After this short speech shot through his inner thoughts, he sprang up, ripped his current outfit off, and jumped into his costume. Now in his full Gliderman attire, Parter felt it was time to try out his newfound abilities on some WORTHY specimens.

With crime-stopping on the brain, Gliderman defiantly spread his arm-flaps and heroically leaped through the window, sending glass shards everywhere.

***********************

"Alright lady, HAND OVER THE MONEY!!!" screamed the burly man, his pistol trembling in sheer rage as it pointed to the lady across the counter.

"No, you monster! I won't do it!" persisted the resiliant sales-clerk.

"Lady, I gave you a 20 for dis lottery ticket and a bag of chips, and you're supposed to give me my change! Now GIVE IT!"

Suddenly, the side window of the convenience store burst open in a blast of glass, and Gliderman landed onto the first aisle's recently-mopped floorway. This, of course, resulted in him sliding mercilessly into a stand full of canned goods and thumbtacks - a stand which then collapsed upon him and covered him thoroughly.

The large man and sales-lady gawked at the pile of cans and tacks as it slowly rose, Gliderman's grunts breaking the awkward silence. With a final nerdy NNNNNNNYAH, Gliderman emerged from the wreckage, ready to enforce his marsupial-themed law-regulation tactics.

"Alright big guy, just back away from the counter, and put the gun down, mkay?"

"Who da heck are YOU!?" the thoroughly-flabbergasted man snapped.

"Your worst nightmare...." Parter recited, recalling a certain movie line he'd always thought sounded pretty intimidating.

"Oh, okay - some freakshow dressed up like a rodent with a hang glider surgically implanted to his armpits is my WORST NIGHTMARE?" taunted the crazed man, the pistol now pointed towards Gliderman. "Whatcha gonna do - accidentally slide into me and hope the gun falls out of my hand?"

"Well, actually, I was gonna....WHOA, WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!?" said Gliderman, pointing behind the "perpetrator."

"Oh..." the man laughed, "you actually think I'm gonna fall for DAT?"

"No seriously, look!"

"Alright, dis is getting ridiculous..." the man groaned. "Look lady - all I want is my ch-"

BAM! The force of the thrown can knocked the momentarily-distracted man's pistol from his hand, sending it flying across the room.

"OW! SON OF A-"

"Gun?" finished Gliderman, suddenly at the other end of the room with the man's gun in hand - he'd thrown the can and darted across the room in a flash, before the man could even grab his throbbing hand in pain.

To finish intimidating the "crook," Gliderman attempted to crush the gun in his hands - and noticed that there were no bullets loaded.

"See? I'm a decent guy..." whimpered the hurting man. "All I wanted was my ch-"

"Yes, I know - your chance to intimidate those whom you view as WEAKER, those whom you view as your STOMPING ground," interrupted Gliderman, savoring this "superhero thing" evermore every single second. "Well, not as long as I'm around!"

With that, Gliderman hurled the balled-up pistol at the man's forehead, instantly knocking him unconcious and to the floor.

Gliderman then walked up to the lifeless body, the man's tongue stuck out of his mouth in an exceedingly comical way.

"Oh, and it's MARSUPIAL."

"Wow, that was astounding!" praised the cashier lady. "What do they call you, anyway?"

"You hit the nail on the head, ma'am - the Astounding Gliderman!" said Gliderman with pride, putting his fists on his hips like the old Corporal Canada pictures he'd seen in the history books.

With that, Gliderman spread his flaps and launched himself through another side window, sending more glass shards clattering to the floor. Echoes of "...the police will take it from here, ma'aaaaaaaaammmmm..." filled the utterly destroyed but silent convenience store. The lady sighed in admiration, thought of all the property-damage lawsuits she could file on the unconscious man, and calmly dialed the police with a twisted grin on her face.

***************

Man, I tell ya...there's nothing more satisfying than knowing you've helped those in need, thought Gliderman to himself as he glid (or, glode) above the town.

***************

As the days wore on, news of Gliderman's various heroic activities was spreading like radiation throughout the bustling metropolis of Washington, D.C. Headlines such as "Man in Flying Squirrel Costume Scratches Up Serial Rapist's Face" and "Rodent-Themed Superhero Foils Illegal Music Download in Suburban Neighborhood" and "'Gliderman' Single-Handedly Stops Armed Convenience Store Vandalizer" graced the front pages of all the local papers, both reputable and otherwise.

"He is not a man," said one distraught foreign tourist in one interview. "I have seen him at the Capitol Building - no normal human smacks into the walls like that and still manages to live!"

"He's a hero, ya know?" pointed out yet another male interview. "I mean, sure, we've already got the likes of the Revengers, the N-Humans, AND the Fabulous Foursome - but we don't mind THEIR existance, do we? So let's adopt him too, eh? Why not? I mean, you can never have too many superheroes, right?"

"A guy in a skin-tight gray and red suit themed after a rodent, with large skin flaps under his armpits?" questioned another female interviewee. "That's inexplicably HOT."

[Démon]

---------
"HELP!" screamed a woman, lying on the ground, clutching her purse.
"Shut up!" yelled the man standing above her, attempting to wrestle the purse away. "Just hand it over, an' nobody gits hurt!"
"But I'm the only one here. Usually you say that if there's more than one person in-" the woman began, confused, before the mugger interrupted her with another "Shut up!" and gave a final, successful tug that yanked the purse from her grip. He grinned in triumph as she began sobbing on the ground. Then, suddenly...

"YARGH!!!"
The woman looked up and got to her feet, staring at the spectacle that was the mugger. No wonder he was yelling; his underwear had been stretched upwards and over his head in a colossal wedgie. She barely registered this before her purse landed hard on her noggin, knocking her out.
When she regained consciousness - the mugger was still standing there with his underwear over his head, screaming - she noticed the Post-It Note attached to her purse.

"Returned to you in the care of your likeable, city-occupying Gliderman!"

Followed by:

"P.S. I borrowed two bucks for a beef jerky."

She looked hopefully upwards into the night sky - ignoring the still-screaming mugger - hoping to see her rescuer, forgetting that she was unconscious for a duration and that he'd be long gone by now.


The next day, at International Topographic...


" 'WHO IS...GLIDERMAN?'? HE'S A SCAPEGOAT FOR POSSIBLE SCATHING EDITORIALS, THAT'S WHO HE IS!" John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt put down an issue of International Topographic featuring a blurred image of the Astounding Gliderman on the cover. "AND WHAT'S HE DOING ON MY FRONT PAGE?! WE'RE A NATURE MAGAZINE! NOT 'LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH AND FABULOUS' FOR SUPERHEROES!"
Bobbie Bobertson, big-time editor at International Topographic and the voice of reason at the office, stood by JJJ's desk. "He's news." answered Bobertson simply, before the bespectacled assistant to JJJ, Kaufmann, burst into the room.
"We have a problem, sir!" Kaufmann exclaimed upon reaching JJJ. "We've double-booked page six! We promised a full-page article to both George and Riggs! One is doing an article about the eating habits of dung beetles, and the other wrote an article on the daily life of a possum!"
"We sold out one full printing!" Bobertson cut in before JJJ addressed Kaufmann. JJJ froze and stared at Bobertson.
"SOLD OUT?!"
"All fifteen copies."
"ALRIGHT, TOMORROW: GLIDERMAN, PAGE TWELVE, WITH A MORE DISTINCT PICTURE THIS TIME! I'M NOT GIVING THAT RODENT MY FRONT PAGE IF I CAN HELP IT! CALL IT AN 'INTEREST COLUMN', A FOLLOW-UP TO CROCK'S REPORT ON SUGAR GLIDERS, IF YOU WILL!!" he shot at Bobertson, before turning to Kaufmann. "MOVE GEORGE'S DUNG BEETLES TO PAGE SEVEN AND SEND ANYONE WHO WAS FORMERLY ON THAT PAGE A FORMAL APOLOGY FROM MY SECRETARY!"
"Wouldn't it be better if it were your apol-?" Kaufmann began before JJJ screamed "NOW!!!" and chased him out of the room, brandishing a rolled-up copy of International Topographic.
"John, the problem is that we can't seem to get a decent picture of him. Freddie's been on it for the last half-hour. Hasn't turned up." Bobertson said.
"HMMM, WELL..." JJJ began digging through the trash bin beside his desk, "AHA! HERE YOU GO! 'PEKER, PARTER: AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER'! GIVE HIM A RING-A-DING-DING AND SEND HIM ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE TO GET A PICTURE OF THIS 'GLIDERMAN'!!" JJJ stood up and turned towards his window, which had a rather shabby view of the apartment across the street. "HE ISN'T NATURE, BUT HE'S A FREAK OF IT!"
--------

[Agent Thermal]

Later that afternoon...

JM stormed through the hefty metal doors of the Moonpants Diner, muttering unspeakable things to herself. The only relief she could draw from her situation was the fact that she was on her way to her first official audition, one she'd been looking forward to for quite some time. True, it was an audition for the lead role in a diarrhea medication commercial, but she knew she had to start somewhere.

"Hey JM!" cried a nerdy voice behind her, breaking her out of her huff - she knew it was Parter, but it never really registered with her. That is, until he ran directly in front of her and stopped right in the middle of the street, his hearty grin beaming directly into her face.

"So, what's shakin'?" he asked good-naturedly, not even heeding the car horn assault already taking place around them.

"Oh, hey Part....just, uh, going to my, uh......audition..." she answered meekly.

"Oh, you're ACTING now!?" asked Parter, sincerely impressed.

"No, I mean it, I AM going to an audition!"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Parter laughed. "I mean, you're going into the acting field now? That's great!"

"Yeah, I guess so...."

"Hey, what's wrong?" asked Parter, now more concerned than impressed.

"Well....." she said humbly, "....I guess I...uhh..."

"Oh, wait, I get it...." interrupted Parter. "You don't want me knowing that you work at the Moonpants Diner, 'cuz you care very deeply what I think about you."

"Well, not exact-"

"It's okay, you don't have to say anymore. Rest assured that I in no way think any less of you - you have a JOB - you contribute to society in an underappreciated way - and more importantly, I'm sure you do it with every cardiac fiber of your heart."

Just then, JM's overly-obese boss burst through the Moonpants Diner doors after her, his spatula flinging grease as he enthusiastically gestured to her with it.

"EY JERRI!" the large man yelled, making her roll her eyes and sigh in embarrassment. "Ah know ah ain't toldju you could go on break, Miss Mayne! Get back on over heah!"

"ENRICO!" she yelled back, quickly growing weary of the situation. "I ASKED FO DIS HALF-UH-DAY OFF 'BOUT TREE MUMFS BACK! DONCHU BE YELLIN' AT ME LIKE DAT, CHU HEAH!?"

"AH-AIGHT DEN! YOU AIN'T TELL ME DAT WHEN YOU WUZ WALKIN' OUT! YOU AIN'T GOTTA BE YELLIN' AT ME LIKE DAT NEEVUH, WOMAN!" he yelled, quickly (well, for a fat guy anyway) making his way back into the diner, as if the conversation never happened.

Parter stared, gawking.

"Sorry about that..." JM apologized. "The only way he understands me is if I speak like he does...otherwise, I can't get anything across to him."

"Oh....uhh, okay," stated a confused Parter.

The horns continued to blare, and the traffic cops were on their way.

"So, how's the new place comin' along?" asked JM.

"What new place?" asked Parter, clearly unaware that he'd moved out of his Aunt's house to begin with.

"You know! The new place! You're living with Larry now, right?"

"I am?"

"Yeah! Didn't Larry tell you?"

"Well....actually, uh.....yeah, yeah, of course he did," Parter fibbed. "So, uh....what ELSE does Larry....uhhh...know about?"

"Well, what I DON'T want him knowing is that I'm working here at the moment," she said, pointing to the diner behind her. "Got it?" she asked with a wink.

"Well, I mean, sure...but, uh, why do YOU care whether he knows or not?" asked Parter suspiciously.

"Oh, he didn't tell you? We're going out!"

"Oooh, really? Where to?" asked Parter desperately, hoping he'd just misunderstood her.

"No, Part - we're DATING."

"Oh...." said Parter, looking down to the road in hidden defeat.

"I didn't want you to tell him, 'cuz, well, you know...he probably wouldn't think too highly of me working at the Moonpants Diner...he being the son of a multi-billionaire and all..."

"Yeah...good boyfriends ALWAYS think low of their girlfriends when they're on hard times..." Parter mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing...just saying that good boyfriends always....uhhh...you know...help OUT their girlfriends when they're on hard times," sputtered Parter quickly. "So, uh, you know - you shouldn't have to worry about that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right..." thought JM out loud to herself. "Thanks, Part."

"Sure, anytime..." said Parter weakly. "But don't worry, I still won't tell him!"

"Yeah, you do that!" she laughed as she continued her walk, much to the relief of the gigantic crowd of vehicles that had been forced to stop at the intersection. "I'll see ya later, Part - gotta get to my audition!"

"Well, let me know when your movie or commercial or whatever it is comes out, okay? I wanna see it!" called out Parter to the fading-away JM.

"Ummmm....we'll see...." she muttered.

"And maybe we could...I don't know, uh...go out for breakfast one night or something...?" asked Parter as she turned the corner, out of ear and eye-shot.

"Breakfast? AT NIGHT? STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!!" grimaced Parter in a Chris-Farley fashion, messing up his hair in the process with each syllable uttered. "Well, I gotta call Larry anyway..."

Larryyyyyyyy....thought Parter upon realization with vague vehemence as he headed toward the closest payphone.

Later that day...(at Larry and now-Parter's apartment...)

Parter walked into his new abode for the first time, taking in the non-existant scenery of the room. Sure, it was spacious, but that was really only because it had hardly any furniture. It seemed to resemble a miniature warehouse.

"Hey Part..." whispered Truman Ozzybourne in greeting to Parter as he continued to talk on the phone with some unknown entity, babbling on about various OzzyInc-related matters.

"Hiya Part...." muttered Larry to Parter immediately afterwards. He sat at a desk towards the back of the room, staring down at his Antarctican History homework.

"MAN I hate electives..." whispered Larry to Parter, so as not to disturb Truman's conversation. "Think you could help me out with this question?"

Parter just stared at Larry, a dejected and disappointed look upon his face.

"Hey man, what's wrong? You look like you just found out that your best friend has all along been dating the girl of your dreams that used to be your next-door neighbor or something..."

"Eh, well...." mused Parter, "...it's just that, uh....Dr. Bonners fired me for being late - again."

"Parter, what are you doing?" asked Larry, putting down his 3-page textbook. "How do you expect to keep a job if you never show up for them? What's making you late all the time?"

"You know....stuff."

"What kind of st-"

"Hey you guys!" interrupted Truman heartily, now off of his telephone conversation. "I couldn't help but hear something about a 'girl of your dreams' - care to elaborate, son? I've been hearing about YOURS for a while now!"

"Not now, dad..."

"Aw c'mon, pleeease?"

"No, not now. I'm busy."

"Pretty please?"

"No..."

"With glucose on top!?"

"NO, DAD, OKAY!?"

"DON'T TALK BACK TO ME, YOUNG MAN!" screamed Truman, a gray complexion beginning to form in his features. "I AM YOUR FATHER, AND AS SUCH, YOU ARE GOING TO ANSWER ME, UNDERSTAND!?"

"SIMMA DOWN-NAH!" stated Parter matter-of-factly. "No need to shout - I know who it is, sir."

"Oh, really?" asked Truman, now back to his calm, good-natured self. The grayness, which no one else had conveniently noticed to begin with, began to fade as quickly as it had come.

"Yeah, it's none other th-"

"Hey Part, you were looking for a job, right?" interrupted Larry, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible. "Well, some guy named Jingleheimerschmidt called here and left a message for ya - says you were 're-un-fired,' or something like that."

"Does EVERYBODY know that I lived here except ME!?" screamed Parter to the ceiling, making the two Ozzybournes give each other concerned looks.

"Nevermind..." continued Parter, more calm now that he'd let that out of his system. "At least I've got a job now. I wonder why he changed his mind.....maybe I'll give him a call as well...."

[Démon]

Whoa, major delay here. Over two months.

-------------

A lone security guard stood by the back doors of an armored car, parked outside of "Dippin' Donuts", whistling absent-mindedly. But his peace of mind was soon interrupted...

"How's it going?!"

The guard suddenly found himself getting hit in the head with the handle of a handgun, wielded by a rather scary looking thug. Behind the thug were his cronies, also armed. The thug threw the dazed guard to the side, and opened the inexplicably unlocked rear doors of the vehicle.

Expecting to see "$"-marked bags of cash or gold bars, the crook's face fell...

" 'THE REVENGERS' MERCHANDISE?!" yelled the thug in obvious disappointment. He reached in and pulled out a talking Rant-Man action figure to show the others. But as he turned around, he noticed that said others were being flung around by a costume-clad teenager with weird skin flaps under his arms, who, for some reason, was taking pictures as he fought.

"HEY, YOU!" cried the thug, addressing the attacker, who had a crook in a headlock with one arm and was aiming the camera at himself with the other.
Letting go of the criminal, the masked man spun to face his new opponent. Forgetting that this guy has managed to single-handedly defeat his fellow criminals while taking pictures - without him even noticing - the criminal charged, swinging the Rant-Man figurine at his opponent, his handgun forgotten. Grunts of exertion, horribly digitized rants, and the whooshing of cheap plastic filled the air as the Astounding Gliderman managed to avoid every swipe the action figure-armed thug took.
As the would-be thief hesitated, tired from his ineffective offensive, Gliderman performed a standing backflip, kicking the Rant-Man figurine out of the man's hands. He caught it, and then took a quick photograph of the criminal's bewildered face before smacking him on the side of the head with the toy. The crook slumped to the concrete, a large lump already beginning to form on the site of impact.

"Say cheese!" quipped Gliderman lamely, taking one last picture of the defeated criminals before jumping into the air and disappearing into the night.

The next day...

Parter walked into the International Topographic office, full of pride. He got the pictures Mr. Jingleheimerschmidt had wanted, and felt that he finally performed a task that wouldn't end with him getting "un-hired". He even had the courage to smile broadly at JJJ's secretary - before tripping up on a bump in the carpet.
Two minutes later, he sat in Mr. Jingleheimerschmidt's office, wearing a band-aid on his forehead to cover the cut he received from a desk corner. JJJ looked through the photographs Parter had given him, which included all of the pictures from the foiled armored car robbery of the night before, along with others of Gliderman in various generic poses throughout the city.

"...CRAP...CRAP...LIQUID CRAP..." said JJJ, with each individual photo. "I'LL GIVE YOU TWENTY BUCKS FOR ALL OF THEM."
"That seems kind of low..." Parter said, knowing full well that "kind of low" was a very big understatement.
"WELL, TAKE THEM TO A MAJOR TABLOID OR SOMEBODY ELSE WHO PAYS FAIRLY!" JJJ snapped. "MS. BANT! FETCH THIS MAN SOME COMMON SENSE!"
Parter, disappointed, rose from his seat and prepared to leave, but JJJ motioned for him to sit back down.
"OKAY, I'LL PAY YOU A HUNDRED BUCKS FOR THE LOT OF THEM. IT'S THE STANDARD FEE FOR EXPENDABLE PHOTOGRAPHERS."
Seeing his chance to up his salary, Parter began "Sir, I'd like to have an actual job-"
"NO JOBS! EXPENDABLE PHOTOGRAPHY! IT'S CHEAP, AND IT'S THE BEST THING FOR A NERD OF YOUR UNRELIABILITY!" JJJ shouted. "NOW GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I LOSE MY SENSE OF GENEROSITY!" He chased Parter out of the room, brandishing his newspaper again. Turning to an unfazed Bobbie Bobertson, he said "RUN THESE IN TOMORROW'S ISSUE! PAGE FOURTEEN! TITLE: 'GLIDERMAN: MARSUPIAL MENACE, OR SOME WUSS IN TIGHTS?'!" and handed over Parter's photographs.

--------

Sorry for the delay. REALLY preoccupied nowadays. :up:

[Agent Thermal]

Figured we'd give you guys a double-whammy here. :p

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Meanwhile...in the top-floor Board Meeting Room of OzzyInc.....

Truman confidently straightened his tie, even though it didn't really need it. Despite the negative news that had been surrounding the recalled flavorless sugar, the company was doing splendidly overall. And today was the day that Truman was going to let the rest of his board KNOW about it.

Truman looked down the reflective marble table to each of the inquiring faces, grinning smugly all the while. With a clearing of the throat, he began his spill.

"My fellow board members..." he began, "...I want to start by formulaically thanking all of you for coming. Let's get right to the good stuff - it is my DISTINCT pleasure to inform you all: revenue is at a record high, our death-rate down at the factory is at an all-time low, and best of all - the protesting mobs outside our lobby door have diminished by a whopping 48%! I tell you, gentlemen and gentle-women - at the rate we're going, OzzyInc WILL BE the next Wal-Mart - only with more military stuff, and less roll-backs."

Excited chit-chatting ensued among the board members, obviously excited over the report.

Truman pressed on.

"We're doing SO GOOD, in fact, that we even have a new theme park plan in the works....OZZY-WORLD!"

"Uh, Truman..." interrupted one of the executives who sat at the opposite end of the table, slurping his microwavable bowl of chili noisily all the while.

"...Just a minute, Don..." acknowledged Truman. "And as you all know, we've ALSO got our 1st annual street festival planned for tomorrow...OZZY-FEST...."

"Uh, TRUMAN..." interrupted Don a bit louder this time, demanding to be heard.

"I said 'Just a minute,' Don, relax!" consoled an elated Truman. "And to top it all off, we've even got a-"

"TRUMAN!" yelled Don, slamming his plastic bowl down upon the marble table with suprising force.

"Geez, what is it, Don!?" asked a now-clearly-concerned Mr. Ozzybourne.

"Yeh fy-ehd," stated Don matter-of-factly, pointing quickly at Truman with all 5 of his fingers in a horizontal arrangement.

A sudden silence enveloped the room.

"I'm.....WHAT?" sputtered an appalled Truman, breaking the aforementioned silence quickly. "FIRED? Hey, wait a minute, you're not my boss!"

"I know that..." began Don, "but I've recently been given EXPLICIT instructions from Best Aerospace to-"

"Wait a minute, BEST AEROSPACE!?" bellowed Truman in disgust. "What've THEY got to do with this!? And you should know better then to listen to EXPLICIT instructions!"

"We figured we'd tell you about it during one of your happiest moments, just so it'd be funnier to see your reaction - right guys!?"

The entire board room laughed uproariously in response - everyone, that is, except Truman - who was turning more noticeably gray by the second.

Don explained further. "You see, Truman...Best Aerospace called me last night at about 3:46 in the morning...and you know what they said? They said that, with Ozzybourne still around, plus the fact that General Hokum is inconveniently dead at the moment, they were only 'second best' as far as military supplies and various other knick-knacks are concerned. But if I was willing to get the board to unanimously vote for your termination, they'd be willing to purchase the company! And in my moment of greed and deceit, I decided to backstab you!"

Don emphasized the point with another ear-gratingly awful slurp from his chili bowl.

"Mack...." Truman whimpered desperately to his wheelchair-bound friend of 20 years beside him. "TELL ME you didn't vote."

"Sorry, Trumey..." Mack stated bluntly. "They said that if YOU left, I'd get free tickets to Ozzy-World for life! AND they promised I'd get free access to specialized parking spaces, right by the entrance!"

"YOU..." snarled Truman as he turned back to face Don. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME."

"Well, actually, I AM able to do it to you, and I just did," responded Don odiously.

"DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH I'VE SACRIFICED FOR THIS COMPANY!? HUH? DO YA!? PUNKS!?"

Concerned whispers now took place among the board members - they were actually not aware that Truman actually HAD sacrificed anything for the company.

"What exactly HAVE you sacrificed for the company?" asked a curious Don.

"WELL....I......uhhhhhh...." stammered Truman meekly. Now that he thought about it - he'd had it good all his life. His own father had given him the company at the ripe young age of 18, and ever since then he hadn't had a thing notably BAD happen in his life - excluding the whole Gray-stuff-experiment thing, that is.

"That's what I thought," declared Don. "Guards - see that this NON-EMPLOYEE is removed from the premises. Employees only, you understand."

"YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!" snarled Truman. "We'll see who's 'FY-EHD'!!! YOU'LL ALL SEE!!!"

"See ya at Ozzy-Fest, Truman!!! I'll buy ya a funnel cake!" laughed Don, waving to the raving-mad Truman as he was escorted outside by the two conveniently-located security guards.

"Oh yeah," added Don, "and I'd get that skin condition checked out if I were you - I don't think I've ever seen GRAY skin before..."

Random best-not-repeated statements of vehemence and vulgarity spewed from Truman's enraged mouth as the doors to the Board Meeting Room slammed shut behind him, leaving the room once again in tranquil peace.

"Okay, now, on to business," began Don, sorting through the folders in front of him. "First off - anyone have any bright ideas about what our booth should look like at the festival? Remember - we've just been bought by Best Aerospace, but we're still OzzyInc for now...any way we can blend the color schemes, or something along that line?"

The board once again fell into an unintelligible cloud of whispering and discussion in response. Don slurped his chili bowl once more for good measure, then sputtered and coughed violently as a kidney bean went down the wrong pipe.

[Démon]

------

The Ozzy-Fest Festival was in full swing the next afternoon, with a huge amount of partiers and an elaborate stage performance by famous singer Gracy May; the festivities undaunted by the absence of the man who had arranged them. Booths littered the already crowded street, distributing edibles and company merchandise - nobody questioned the questionable sale of Best Aerospace t-shirts alongside OzzyInc clothing - while security manned the barricades at the ends of the closed-off street. To add to the atmosphere, several balloons depicting obscure cartoon characters branded with OzzyInc and hastily painted Best Aerospace logos hovered over the scene.

Peker slowly maneuvered through the swarm of dorky dancers and attempted to pinpoint the main booth where Larry, accompanied by JM, would be overseeing the Festival with the OzzyInc board members. Larry had left a brief note behind when he left for the festival inviting Parter to join them at the OzzyInc booth - with a P.S. asking him to wash the mountain of dishes in the kitchen before going.
Parter finally sidestepped several overenthusiastic people doing "The Robot" and spotted the main company booth - which sported an unusual clash of battleship gray and vivid orange colors. Scanning through it's occupants, he spotted Larry and JM seated between a wheelchair-bound man and another man who was vigorously slurping down a bowl of soup. Conspicuously, Mr. Ozzybourne was not visible among them.

Oblivious to Peker's presence in the crowd, Larry leaned sideways to JM. "Why didn't you wear the gray dress?"
"Gray dress?" repeated JM, confused. "You didn't mention anything about a gray dress."
"I'm sorry. It's just that my father loves gray, and I wanted to impress him." Larry muttered.
"Then why don't YOU wear the gray dress? I'm not the one who wants to impress him." responded JM, with an irritable sigh. Larry leaned forward to kiss her, but she threw out an arm to stop him and struck him hard in the chest. Wheezing, and attempting to avoid seeing the smirks of the board members, he looked out towards the crowd and spotted, with a twinge of guilt, Parter staring straight at them from the front.
"Er, JM...let's go get some punch..." said Larry before yanking her out of her chair against her disgruntled protests and dragging her towards the nearby punchbowl.
Parter, confused by the bizarre behavior he just witnessed at a distance, began to walk towards the booth, but stopped abruptly as his enhanced hearing picked up a distinct sound over the multitude of noise created by the crowd.

Ding-ding-ding...

Parter darted behind a nearby merchandise stand and stared upwards at the sky, trying to trace the source of the sound. He soon spotted it.
A growing speck in the distance soon became discernible as he made out the details of a figure riding on a familiar-looking device. From what he could see, the figure had a gray coloration and was wearing an odd costume...

As the figure approached, people in the crowd began taking notice and pointing upwards. Now Parter was able see that the costume was that of a gray Power Ranger, and the device it rode upon was the purple scooter he had seen on the OzzyInc tour. The crowd cheered and cameras flashed - ignoring the still-singing-desperately-at-increasingly-higher-pitches Gracy May. Parter, still nervous, did not share their unfounded enthusiasm, and neither did the board members in the OzzyInc booth.

"That's our scooter!" yelled Don, the soup-slurper, tipping over his bowl as he jumped up with his fellows. The figure, flying at the level of nearby rooftops, cackled as he approached the booth - a cackle that blended a dry heave with the hacking up of phlegm.
Larry and JM rushed back into the booth, staring out at the cackling scooter-stealer. "What the heck is that?" Larry wondered aloud.
The scooter pulled to a stop just above the booth, hovering sideways. The Power Ranger outfit-clad man on it looked down upon the terrified board members and screeched:

"FY-EHD, AM I??!! What a terrible, clichéd way to relieve me of my DUTY!!"

With a scream of fury, he launched a sudden assault of unexpected proportions. Orange, full-sized pumpkins rained down upon the booth, splattering as they made contact with various objects, people, and the pavement below.
Gracy May, ignoring the fact that the audience were now running for their lives and yelling in terror, continued singing. Seemingly annoyed by her persistent wails, the menace spun in her direction and ended the shrill vocalist's career with a deafening SPLORCH! The audience applauded.
Don, realizing the threat posed to himself, desperately clambered over the injured and the shell-shocked ("Seeds! THERE ARE SEEDS EVERYWHERE!!") and made it out of the booth. His sudden emergence, however, got the attention of the fruit-flinging fiend in the air.
"YOU!!!" it hissed, somehow conjuring up a larger-than-average pumpkin and taking aim. Don ran as fast as he could, but the ever-growing shadow of pulpy death stayed with him until the impact hit him and flattened him onto the sidewalk.
Laughing maniacally, the Gremlin-like Power Ranger continued his bombardment of the spectators. Mack, who attempted to escape in his wheelchair, found himself on the ground after his chair spun out of control on the slippery, mushy pavement: spilling him out onto the concrete. He had barely raised his head before another one of the madman's projectiles found its mark.

Parter, still beside the merchandising stand, stared in horror at the spectacle before him. A high-pitched scream snapped him back to his senses as he glanced back at the booth and saw Jerri Mayne staring up at the villain. But her mouth wasn't open. Cowering behind her was Larry, who let out a high-pitched scream again as the Gremlin looked down upon them.
Knowing immediately that they were in danger, Parter ran down the street towards an alley, pulling open his jacket to reveal his Gliderman costume as he went...

-------

Sorry for the delay in writing this, but I wanted to make sure I would do it right. :up:

[Agent Thermal]

"Why hello there, girl-I've-never-ever-met-before..." hissed the gremlin-esque villain hovering before them suspiciously, as if he were trying to hide his identity a bit TOO well. JM just rolled her eyes at the gall of the Power-Ranger-clad menace, while Harry continued to scream girlishly in her ear.

Just as the moment was growing increasingly awkward by the second, the gremlin villain reached into his basket and pulled out an especially un-ripe pumpkin, super-hard and ready for throwing.

"Ready to check out of the Life Motel!?" he cackled menacingly as he cocked his arm back to throw. Though JM was obviously very special to Larry, the transformed Truman Ozzybourne didn't really seem to care whatsoever.

"Hey, there's that Man-Glider dude!!" yelled a misled yet enlightened citizen nearby, pointing down the street to a gray-costumed figure with large arm-skin flaps barreling toward the scene.

"Huh?" uttered the gremlin-thing in confusion as he turned around, only to see a blur of gray and red slam into his midsection, sending him flying off the scooter and into a nearby pie-eating contest booth with incredible force. Rolling out dramatically from the inertia came the marsupial themed hero, the one that the newspapers had slandered and misinterpreted for weeks now.

"Hey pal - that's Glider-MAN," emphasized Gliderman, wiping the excess pie crust off of his tights as he got to his feet.

JM stared at the figure and destroyed pie-booth with awe and amazement - two freakish characters had shown up almost simultaneously, and the situation was quickly turning into some bizarre scene from a comic book or something.

"Alright Gliderman!" cheered a nearby citizen, who had decided to stick around to take in the action. "You stopped that crazy Power Ranger dude!"

"Yeah, not too bad, huh?" mused Gliderman. "And that was my first ever super-villain encounter, too!"

"And it's about to be your LAST!" came a menacing snarl from the pie-booth wreckage, and the group turned around in shock to see the tent rising from the ground, with two pointy ears protruding comically at the top. With muffled grunts and much frustration, the tent was whipped and whirled about for about a minute or so as the Power Ranger gremlin struggled to get out from under its annoying hindrance. Finally, the character emerged from under the tent and wiped furiously at his costume, removing the globs of fruit filling that had stained it rather significantly.

Just as Gliderman was about to crouch into a pre-attack position, he heard a terrified scream behind him. He whirled around to see that the gremlin-less scooter had flown around vehemently in random directions, and had now punctured one of the unattended inflatable cartoon characters. At that very moment, the giant, grinning sac of quickly-exiting air was now descending upon a distraught mother's son, who was just staring blankly at the rapidly impending doom. The child's apparent detachment from his surroundings was rather disturbing to Gliderman, but psycho-therepy would have to wait.

"So what'll it be, Gliderman? Take me on, or save the brat? It's your decision!"

"Promise you won't hurt JM - I mean, that lady over there - if I leave and save the kid?"

"Uhhhhh....sure, yeah, whatever."

"Very well then - say cheese!" declared Gliderman heroically, as he whipped out a camera from a pocket in his costume and took several pictures in various positions of the thoroughly dumbstruck gremlin character.

"Sorry - for my photo album, you being my first super-villain and all," Gliderman lied meekly as he carefully placed the camera back into his pocket. With that little duty out of the way, he quickly darted toward the seemingly-paralyzed child with the speed of a human-sized sugar glider. It was going to be close...

--------------------

The gremlin-esque Ranger shook his head in bewilderment and turned to the stunned JM and Larry, the latter of which unconscious on the ground due to having fainted several minutes ago.

"I'm a villain of my word," hissed the gray-clad menace menacingly. "I promised the flying rat I wouldn't hurt you."

JM breathed a soft, barely detectable sigh of relief. Finally, this ordeal might just end at a decent hour after all.

"...But that all depends, of course, on your definition of 'hurt'...."

--------------------

Gliderman could now see that he was easily going to make it in time, but in typical superhero fashion, he preferred that he get there at the perfect time - without a second to spare. He wouldn't have it any other way, since it was usually the most "cool" way to convey the rescue scene onto the crowd. Split-second life-savings were always preferable to the casual, easily-performed life-savings that could have waited a few more moments.

Slowing down his run so as to time his life-saving tackle just right, he took the bought time to study the child's blank stare. If he didn't know any better, it almost seemed like the kid WANTED to die. The boy just stared, directly at the falling balloon, with his arms outstretched, almost in an EMBRACING fashion.

Why won't he move, asked Gliderman to himself. C'mon, kid!

The boy continued to stand during the agonizing seconds, almost in a trance-like state.

Oh well...here goes nothing...

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" yelled Gliderman in dramatic fashion, just to impress the crowd even further. With that, he burst forward through the air and tackled the boy linebacker-style, just as the fabric of the balloon grazed his boot. With a soft thud, he cradled the boy away from the rough pavement and rolled to safety. Realizing that he'd done it flawlessly yet again, he unfurled the boy softly onto the road, right in front of his gracious mother. With a grunt, he stood up heroically, as if he'd strained himself immensely to pull off the feat.

"Oh, thank you so much Gliderman!!!" cried the mother with extreme relief.

"No problem, ma'am - all in a day's work. I do this kind of stuff all the time - except without the balloons and supervillains, anyway."

"Yeah, thanks a LOT..." sighed the boy, who had a distinctly disappointed tone in his voice.

"Hey, what's wrong there, sport?" said Gliderman with confused concern, bending down to console the boy.

"You don't get it, do you?" snapped the boy, much to the chagrin of Gliderman.

"Get what? I saved your life, son!"

"That's the whole point - I WANTED to die!"

"HUH!?" yelled Gliderman and the child's mother in unison.

"Why else do you think I didn't move on my own? You think I'm paralyzed or something?" spat the child.

"Well....uhhh..." stammered Gliderman.

"All my life, it's all been the same - I wake up, I go to school, I eat, I watch TV, I go to sleep. I'm TIRED of it! I just wanted it all to end! I couldn't take it anymore! And when that stupid scooter thing went crazy, and popped that balloon, I knew this was my chance to end it all! But then YOU had to come in and take it all away from me!! I HATE YOU ALL!!!"

The mother stared at the boy, bewildered beyond all reasonable comprehension. Her mouth agape, she stammered for something to say.

"Uhhhh..." began Gliderman, not really sure of what to say, "....I think this is probably something that your mother should handle, son....gotta go!"

With that, Gliderman spread out his arms and leapt into the air, making sure to distance himself from the disturbing child as much as possible.

--------------------

"Step away from the lady, sir!" yelled one of the three recently-arrived police officers to the gray-clad villain, nervously pointing a gun in the figure's general direction.

"Or else WHAT?" hissed the menace, he merely feet away from the somewhat-cringing JM.

"Or else....uhhh....we'll attempt to stop you in pathetic cop fashion, in which you'll quickly disperse us with your various super powers!"

The gremlin creature waited.

"Uhhh.....you have the right to remain silent?"

"Good enough for me!" snarled the gremlin Ranger as he stood up defiantly and marched toward the cowering cops, who were slowly backing away as a result.

"Hold it right there!" stammered one of the other cops, he being one of the stereotypical young-rookie-partner-types. He held up his gun weakly, pointing directly at the gremlin's chest.

Without so much as a hesitation, the gremlin whipped his fists in rapid fashion, knocking the gun out of the closest cop's hand with one and connecting hard with the said cop's jaw with the other one, sending the poor law enforcer into a crowd of gathered spectators.

The other two quickly opened fire, but the bullets simply grazed the rough skin of the lightning-quick gremlin, who dodged the anticipated bullets and spin-kicked the remaining guns away from the cops. Seeing that they were now easily disarmed, the officers took to flight, but only briefly - they were quickly and roughly grabbed by the back of their collars, gagging them briefly but severely. The gremlin sneered evilly as he lifted the two struggling cops into the air, only to reveal a heroically posed Gliderman standing behind where they were yanked, camera in hand.

"Okay, keep that sneer..." coaxed Gliderman, getting in good position for further pictures and snapping all the while. "And you guys, I wanna see the fear of God in your eyes...c'mon, let's see some morbid terror!"

"I'll show you MORBID TERROR!" bellowed the gremlin, hurling both cops at the trigger-happy Gliderman with tremendous force. Nevertheless, Gliderman had anticipated the reaction (hoping his photography opportunities would serve a dual purpose) and dropped the neck-hanging camera. He then leapt back and caught the hurtling cops with the gentleness of a mattress, falling to the pavement with silky-smooth ease. Letting the terrified cops go on their way, Gliderman flipped back to his feet and stared the freakish creature down. The pointy ears, the sharp teeth, the gray Power Ranger outfit....it was downright bizarre.

"Alright Gremlin - I hope you brought a lunch."

"And why is that?" snarled the menace.

"'Cuz this ain't gonna be no picnic..."

With that, Gliderman charged toward the gremlin, fists balled and ready for action. The gremlin simply grinned as he powerfully seized both of Gliderman's fists and slung him around, causing Gliderman to lose his traction and fly into a hot-dog-eating-contest booth with explosive force. Wood splintered and weiners flew in all directions, pelting the surrounding crowd like a freakish storm from some alternate universe.

Seeing that his newly-acquired protagonistic nemesis was disposed for the time being, the gremlin character pressed a button on his belt, causing the still-flying-randomly scooter to finally direct its sporadic flight path towards its pilot. The gremlin sneered even further as his primary means of transportation arrived at his feet, ready for his mounting.

Gliderman pushed his way out of the booth wreckage, spitting out a disgusting mixture of wood and buns through his just-ripped mouth-hole in the process. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for much more than that as he beheld the girly-esque scooter, with the Power Ranger gremlin on board, shooting towards him with deadly intent.

Picking up a beam of wood, and hiding it in front of his body, Gliderman raced down the street, the military scooter slowly gaining on him. The gremlin reached back, sweeped up several pumpkins in his arms, and began hurling the fruits at Gliderman's back. Each fruit landed harmlessly at the back of Gliderman's heels, each narrowly missing their mark on the marsupial-themed hero's hide.

Gliderman listened to the sounds of the pumpkins, waiting for a pause in the barrage. Once he finally did, he stopped in his tracks and whipped around to see the scooter fly over his head, the confused rider turning his head as well.

Knowing that he now had the advantage, Gliderman hurled the piece of timber with all of his might at the scooter's base, and connected - effectively. The wood lodged into the machinery of the scooter, and sent it spiraling backwards. Gliderman then leapt into the air and glid (or glided, whichever) over to the spinning device, managing to latch his claws onto the back of the scooter's seat. The gremlin was a bit too disoriented to react quick enough to his adversary's recent arrival, and Gliderman took further advantage of the situation by connecting a strong roundhouse kick to the side of the gremlin's face, sending the creature flying through the window of an ambiguous government building next to the street.

The crowd cheered as Gliderman situated himself onto the seat of the scooter, which still spun wildly. He frowned as he noticed the control panel - it was a LOT more complicated then he had expected anything modeled after a child's scooter to be. He searched quickly for anything resembling a "flight stabilizer" button, but saw none initially.

Finally, just as he detected the embarrassingly obvious "Press this if you're spinning out of control" button, the scooter suddenly stopped spinning - on its own. It hovered serenely in mid-air for a few moments, and then it happened with concussive force.

The ejector seat erupted beneath Gliderman's rear.

--------------------

The Power gremlin laughed evilly as he lifted his finger from the "Ejector" button on his belt, he having recently recovered from his violent scooter removal. Sitting among scattered papers and shattered glass within an office room, he waited a few moments, and grinned with approval as the sputtering scooter made its way, once again, toward his position. With a grunt of relief and pain, he sat upon the now cushion-less seat and winced gingerly as he propelled the device back through the window.

Staring down upon the dumbstruck civilians, the gremlin snarled and sputtered into the horizon, toward some unknown destination in the general direction of the OzzyInc building.

"We'll meet again, Glidermaaaaaaannnnn......." shouted the departing creature into the sky, knowing good and well that Gliderman couldn't possibly hear him.

JM awoke from her stupor and turned to Larry, who was gurgling peacefully in his sleep. Rolling her eyes yet again, she stood up from her crouched position. There was something about that Glider-guy, she thought to herself thoughtfully. Something very familiar in the way he fought and talked...something distinctly nerdy...

With a sigh of confusion and defeat, she shrugged her shoulders and began to drag Larry's body away from the carnage.

[Agent Thermal]

Later that night, at Larry and Parter's Place

"Uhhh.....hey JM, w-what's happening?" stammered Larry nervously into his cell-phone. He knew he had let her down big-time, and as afraid as he was to admit it to her, he knew this call had to be made.

No reply came from the telephone.

"You know, Larry..." interjected a secretly elated Parter, perched on the arm of the only recliner in the room. "You could try actually CALLING her, instead of doing all this practice greeting stuff. Just get it over with already!"

"Yeah, I guess you're right..." sighed Larry, as he finally decided to talk to her once and for all. After about 48 practice greetings, he figured he'd be as ready now as he'd ever be.

He dialed her number and waited.

"YEAH!? WHO IS THIS!?" came the booming voice of an obviously drunk and burly man.

"Uh....hi.....is this the Holmes residence?" stammered Larry further. This was NOT who he was expecting to pick up the phone at her place.

"WAIT, YOU'RE ONE OF THEM TELEMARKETERS, AINCHA? I THOUGHT I PUT OUR NUMBER ON THAT 'DO NOT CALL' LIST!" yelled the accusatory voice further.

"Oh no, no sir! I'm just calling to speak with Jerri Mayne, if she was around and wasn't too busy....this is Larry Ozzybourne."

A slight pause.

"Yeah, she's upstairs. HEY JERRI!" yelled the voice, obviously away from the phone and directed up the stairs of the Holmes' house. "PICK UP YOUR PIECE OF TRASH PHONE! YOUR PIECE OF TRASH BOYFRIEND IS ON THE PIECE OF TRASH LINE!"

Larry cringed at the domestic verbal abuse as he heard the phone rattle off the base and raise to JM's ear.

"Hi, Brad?" came JM's excited voice. "Oh god, it's SO great that you called. Listen - earlier today, guess what happened? GLIDERMAN came and-"

"Uh, hi, JM?" interrupted a flabbergasted Larry. "This is Larry."

Another awkward pause.

"Oh.......HI Larry...." came the obviously disappointed reply.

"So, uhhh....how're ya doin' today, huh? You feeling better?" asked Larry desperately, hoping to start some form of a normal conversation.

"Sure, yeah...." came the reply.

'No thanks to you,' she's probably thinking, winced Larry. "So......Gliderman saved ya, huh? Sorry I missed it. You know, with the fainting, and th-"

"Yeah yeah, it was neat. You missed out, all right!" she laughed.

Maybe this won't be so bad after all, thought Larry. "Yeah, guess I did," he laughed back.

"Larry, you wouldn't believe it - it was AMAZING the things he did. Single-handedly saving that psycho kid, those 2 cops, AND stopping that gray Power Ranger guy - all at the same time!"

"Whaddya mean 'AMAZING'?" complained Larry. She NEVER uses that word!

Parter grinned further - he could make out the conversation perfectly from his point in the room with his empowered hearing.

"I mean ASTOUNDING, INCREDIBLE, BEWILDERING, MIND-BOGGLING, EXTRAORDINARY, WONDROUS, STUNNING, SPECTACULAR, ASTONISHING, MARVELOUS, BREATHTAK-"

"OKAY, I GET IT!" interrupted Larry. "Sheesh!"

"Sorry..." JM apologized. Larry thought he heard the sound of a heavy book being placed back down on a desk at her end.

"Hey, listen..." began Larry on the main part of the conversation. "I wanted to know if, maybe, you know, I could somehow make you feel better somehow. Make up for what I did. I could take you shopping, take you out to eat - I'll buy ya that gray dress you've always wanted!"

"How many times must I tell you - I do NOT want that gray dress! No, it's okay, Larry. Never mind. I'll be alright."

"You sure? Maybe I could get you something else?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks anyway."

Parter, despite the plight of his roommate, could barely contain a tidal wave of gleeful laughter.

"You know, Larry," JM continued, "you could have called my cell-phone. You didn't have to call the house phone."

"Sorry - I used that paper with your cell number on it to blow my nose when I was crying earlier today. It was the only thing around other then my shirt, and, well, you know, it was one of my nicer shir-"

"Whatever - night, Larry."

"Nighty ni-"

Click.

Larry frowned even further, and turned off his phone reluctantly.

Parter tried his best to make his spiteful grin look like an encouraging smile as Larry slowly made his way toward the living room.

"Sorry you had to hear that, Part," apologized Larry. "I guess things aren't going so smoothly with us right now."

"Yeah."

"Listen, Part....I guess I should have told you about JM and I earlier. I just didn't want to see that look again on your face, you know? But I was CUCKOO for her, man. You just stood around, being nerdy like only you can, never once trying to let her know of your real feelings. So, I guess, you made NO move, and I made the WRONG moves."

"Yep, guess so."

Yet another awkward pause.

"So," began Larry, trying to change the subject, "what WAS that gray Power Ranger monster thing? Was that crazy or what?"

"Most definitely."

"And that Gliderman guy....is he WITH this Power Ranger guy, or is he the superhero to the Power Ranger's supervillain? After reading the newspapers, and seeing the captions in my Dad's International Topographic magazines, I don't know what to think!"

"Whatever the case..." said Parter calmly but firmly, "we know that Gliderman is our only hope to stopping this menace at all. He and all the other superheroes in this city, that is. I wonder why THEY haven't showed up yet?"

-----------------------------------

The Ozzybourne Mansion, the next morning...

There it was again. That laugh. That dry heave/phlegm-hacking hybrid sounding laugh. It was echoing all around him, but Truman Ozzybourne couldn't pin-point its exact source.

"Who's there?" shouted Truman to the air, looking frantically around his enormous parlor. He'd only had a few sips from his toddy thus far, but that in itself was surely not enough to induce hallucinations - could it? Besides, he'd heard these random spurts of sadistic laughter before, when he was perfectly sober.

"It's me, you moron!"

Might as well talk to it - maybe that'll make it go away, thought Truman hopefully and irrationally.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'What do you mean?' Isn't it obvious who I am?"

"Is this some kind of riddle or something?"

"NO - geez, you still haven't figured it out?"

"Figured out what?"

"FIGURED OUT WHO I AM! DON'T YOU EVER WATCH THE NEWS!?"

"When I can, but you have to realize - I'm a very busy business man, and-"

"Wait - I thought you were fired."

"Well, yeah, but still - I have jobs."

"Yeah - like making carbon dioxide for plants to breathe."

"Wait - how'd you know I was fired to begin with?"

"Oh, forget this! LOOK IN THE MIRROR!"

Truman turned to the giant mirror conveniently located next to him in his parlor - it was HIMSELF looking back.

"Here I am!"

"Whoa.....you're my MIRROR REFLECTION?"

Truman heard the distant, echoey sound of a hand slapping a face in frustration, accompanied with a groan.

"Okay....for the sake of argument, YES, I'm essentially your mirror reflection."

"Well that explains a lot, and yet, nothing at all."

"Ah, but it gets better - I'm the one who flies around on the military scooter, dressed in the Power Ranger getup, with the severe deformities, throwing pumpkins at people, generally instilling fear into the hearts of all those who stand in my way."

"So YOU stole the scooter!?"

"Uhhh....YEAH? Remember the 'Gray Stuff' you experimented with in that lab? Remember it was supposed to make you crazy and super-powerful? Where else do you think you were during those blackouts you've been experiencing recently?"

The mirror reflection is right, thought Truman. I have been experiencing a lot of blackouts, and then I always hear about the Power Ranger gremlin thing on the news shortly afterward...

"So let me get this straight - after getting the 'Gray Stuff' poured all over my body, it then empowered my mirror reflection to go crazy, become deformed as it did so, and knock me out while it does its thing to various people who get in its way?"

"NO! Geez, I can NOT believe I'm the alter ego of THIS moron. Listen - it is YOU who undergoes the transformation, got it? YOU ARE THIS GRAY POWER RANGER GREMLIN PERSON. NOT YOUR MIRROR REFLECTION. I JUST SAID YOU WERE SO THAT THE CONVERSATION WOULD MOVE ALONG. GOT IT NOW?"

Truman cringed at the reflection's tone. "Okay, yes I do! Geez, don't get an attitude."

"Fine. Very good. Now, on to business - first up, we have a new superhero in our midst, one that has already nearly foiled my plan. We managed to get rid of those meddling board members, but if we're really going to make a name for ourselves, this issue has to be handled.....pronto."

"You mean Gliderman, right?"

"Noooooooo, I was actually thinking of Ironerman," the reflection responded sarcastically. "YES, GLIDERMAN, you buffoon!"

"Well, what do you propose we do about him?"

"I'll tell you what we do - we present him with an offer he can't refuse. Well, actually, he COULD refuse it, but then he'll die."

With that, the reflection of Truman contorted its face into a giggling snarl worthy of any movie creature constructed by Stan Winston, making the real Truman wince in disgust.

[Démon]

------

"THE GRAY GREMLIN!" exclaimed Jingleheimerschmidt, brandishing a copy of International Topographic under Parter's nose. "WHADDAYA THINK OF THAT, PEKER?! THESE WEIRDOS HAVE ALL GOTTA HAVE A NAME NOW!"
"Well, sir, this isn't really relevant, considering we're a nature maga-" Parter began, before JJJ interrupted him with "AHH, WHAT DO I CARE WHAT YOU THINK, PEKER?! YOU'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE PHOTOGRAPHER! KAUFMAAANNNN!!"
Kaufmann burst into the room, with a conspicuously trailing strip of toilet paper stuck to one of his shoes. "Sir?!"
"CALL UP THE PATENT OFFICE AND COPYRIGHT THE NAME 'GRAY GREMLIN'!! I WANT A PROFITABLE LAWSUIT EVERY TIME SOMEONE ELSE PRINTS THE NAME!"
"How about-?" Kaufmann began to suggest, before, once again, JJJ screamed "NOW!!" and chased him out of the office wielding a magazine.
"IF THESE TWO ARE WORKING TOGETHER," JJJ indicated a candid photo in the magazine of Gliderman being flung comically away from the Gremlin into the hot dog stand, "I COULD BE ONTO THE STORY OF THE YEAR! SEE THIS HEADLINE? 'RODENT AND GREMLIN: ALLIES?'! IT'S BRILLIANT!"
"But Mr. Jingleheimerschmidt, Gliderman was trying to protect the people the Gremlin endangered." Parter said, followed by a mumbled "...And it's 'marsupial'."
"WHAT'S HE GOING TO DO? SUE ME?! HAH!! LET HIM TRY!" JJJ laughed, slamming his fist on his desk and sending a paperweight flying out of the window. A barely perceptible THUD! and accompanying "Ow!" followed. "I'VE GOT MORE LAWYERS THAN THE AVERAGE MEGACORPORATION! GO ON! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE, AND DON'T COME BACK UNLESS YOU'VE GOT PHOTOS!"

Parter turned to leave. He was almost through the office door when he heard a noise and spun to see the window's usual lousy view of the nearby apartment building obstructed by a fast approaching scooter. With a maniacal, heaving laugh and a sinister Ding-ding-ding!, the Gray Gremlin flew into the conveniently open window.
"JINGLEHEIMERSCHMIDT, you magazine-churning scum!" yelled the Gremlin as he jumped off the scooter. In one move, he had grabbed JJJ by the collar and lifted him off the floor. Parter, still standing by the door, noticed the large lump on the Gremlin's head - obviously left by the paperweight that JJJ had so nonchalantly knocked out the window. Sighing and shaking his head, Parter ran out the door to change into more appropriate attire.
"I'm only asking you once!" the Gremlin screamed. "Who is the photographer that brought you those cheesy photographs of my otherwise menacing posturing?!"
"HANG ON! JUST LET ME FIND HIS PORTFOLIO!" JJJ replied. The Gremlin dropped the loud-mouthed magazine entrepreneur, who promptly began searching through the garbage bin next to his desk.
"Would you HURRY UP?!" the Gremlin yelled, increasingly aware that the secretary was phoning the police. As inept at dealing with super-villains as the law enforcement were, the Gremlin didn't want any more delays.
"Did somebody call for a HERO?!" called a voice behind the Gremlin, who turned to see Gliderman leap into the window and strike what he hoped was a dynamic pose. The gray-clad menace could barely conceal a snort at the sight.
"MAN-GLIDER?!" exclaimed JJJ, "I HYPOTHESIZED THAT YOU AND HIM WERE IN THIS TOGETHER!"
"It's 'Gliderman'!" replied said hero, exasperated.
Gliderman turned to the Gray Gremlin, ready for action, to find the villain facing him with one arm extended.
"Sleeeeeeeeeeeeppp..." droned the Gremlin to the confused hero, before swiftly raising his other arm and clobbering Gliderman over the head with the paperweight that had raised a lump upon his own noggin just moments before. The gray and red-clad superhero slumped to the floor and didn't stir.
"Hahaha!" cackled his opponent victoriously, as he lifted the marsupial-like man and attempted to stuff him into the front basket of the waiting hover scooter. After a few minutes of wrangling and foul exclamations best not repeated, JJJ and some International Topographic employees helped the Gremlin maneuver the nearly-comatose superhero into the small basket. With a final maniacal laugh and some muttered assurances of his appreciation to the employees, the Gremlin took off on his scooter through the window - a flying spectacle sailing over the streets with Gliderman's legs dangling from the flowery basket perched on the handlebars.


"Wake up...Wake up, little glider, wake up..." hissed a voice through the darkness as Parter slowly began to regain consciousness. "...Wake up...WAKE UP!!!...I only smacked you with a paperweight! I'm surprised you were out for THIS long!"
"I'm getting up, I'm getting up..." responded Parter, shaking his head groggily and standing up. As his vision cleared, he looked at his surroundings. He was standing on a rooftop, late in the evening. He reached up and gingerly touched his forehead. His mask was still, for some bizarre reason, on, and it appeared that the International Topographic logo that was engraved into the paperweight was now also engraved into his cranium.
"You're a very interesting creature, Gliderman." said the Gremlin, walking out of the shadows cast by the roof's billboard. "Judging from your high-pitched and often nasally voice, you appear to be quite a nerd. And as we both know, nerds never make good superheroes." He laughed. "But you are the exception to that."
"Er, thanks..." said Parter, wondering where this was going. Inexperienced though he was with supervillains, he sensed that this could be the beginning of a long, torturous monologue. Of course, since the Gremlin never bothered applying any form of restraints or bindings to him while he was passed out, he could simply glide away, but he wanted to know what the villain was getting at.
"You know, there are approximately 553,500 people in this city. 'And those teeming masses exist for the sole purpose of lifting those few exceptional people on their shoulders'." The Gremlin paused. "Did you like that one? I read it off a sugar packet...Anyhow, you, me...we're exceptional."
With a menacing snarl, the villain suddenly grabbed Gliderman by the throat. "I could squash you like a rodent-"
"Marsupial!" interrupted Gliderman.
"-whatever, right now." The Gremlin sighed. "But stupidly, I'm giving you a choice. Join me. Imagine what we could accomplish, what we could create! Or...we could destroy! Cause the destruction of countless hot dog stands in slapstick battle again and again and again until we're both in an old age home! Is that... what you want?"
Gliderman didn't answer, and the Gremlin jumped on his scooter and began lifting off. As he gunned the vehicle, he turned his head and called back "THINK ABOUT IT, HERO!" - narrowly missing the billboard on his way out.

------

Once again, sorry about the delay, but I hope it's been worth the wait. :up:

[Agent Thermal]

The very next evening, Parter stood on the busy sidewalk, glaring at the recent edition of International Topographic he'd just purchased. On the front cover was the bizarre picture of a pair of coelacanths conceiving new life, with the headline reading: "Prehistoric Mating Rituals - Has Much Changed?" But it was not this picture that disturbed Parter at the moment - it was the tiny article ad in the corner of the cover. There, in plainly bold letters, were the words: "Glidernitis - Does It Cause Aggression? Pg. 36."

I guess Jingleheimershmidt's been doing his research, thought a crestfallen Parter to himself. And I still can't believe that we don't get employee discounts on these dumb things!

"Hey, Part!" came a familiar voice from behind Parter, causing him to whip around to its source. Sure enough, JM was emerging from the exit to the studio building, as he'd anticipated.

"Heya, JM!" called out Parter, hiding the magazine behind his back conspicuously.

"What are you doing here? How'd you know I was auditioning here?" she laughed nervously.

"Uhhhh....well, uhhh....you know how it goes....your dad started yelling for no particular reason about how he wishes his piece-of-trash daughter hadn't gone to that trashy studio for that trashy audition on the east side by the piece-of-trash Burger King. He yelled loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, and plus, I kinda needed to see a friendly face."

"I see..." stated JM hesitantly.

"So, uh, how'd it go?" asked Parter, desperate to change the subject.

"How'd wh- oh, the audition? Well..."

"What were you auditioning for?"

"Well, the diarrhea commercial didn't pan out, so this time I was trying out for the role of Counsellor Deanna Troi in 'Star Trek: the Musical'. Turns out my 'Romulan/Human-hybrid accent needed some work,' and my 'voice sounds like the red-headed stepchild of Macy Gray and Yoko Ono.'"

"Geez, tough crowd!" laughed Parter in as much support as he could muster.

"Tell me about it. So, anyway, that's my story. I never was much of a big sci-fi fan anyway, so maybe this worked out for the best."

"Probably so....hey, did you wanna get a bite to eat? I've got a little money left on me. How 'bout a cheeseburger and fries?"

"UGH.....Part, I work at a greasy spoon diner, for crying out loud. I don't want to smell anything fried, much less put it inside me. Besides, I've already got plans to meet with Larry anyway. You're welcome to come along, if you want!"

"Well, actually..."

"Oh yeah, that's right - all you've got is a little bit of money. We were going out to some place real fancy, I forget the name. Something French-sounding. He promised not to mention the gray dress again, so maybe things'll start turning around for us."

"Yeah, maybe so. So, is everything going good with you two?"

"It's getting better, like I said. Why, you got a PROBLEM with that?"

"Oh, no, no, not at all!"

"Oh REALLY? Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, definitely," stammered a nervous Parter.

"Really sure?"

"Yep."

"So then why'd you ask?"

"Just to uh, well, you know, move the conversation along, that's all."

"Yeah, but you could've talked about French restaurants, or gray dresses, or something along that line - but you chose to ask about LARRY."

"Well, you know, uh..."

"What are you getting at, Parter? Why do you care who I have a relationship with? Why do YOU care who I date?"

"I - "

"Why are you so interested, huh? Why do you keep bringing this up?"

"But-"

"Why do you make such a big deal out of it? Does it MATTER to you who I'm going out with, Parter? Huh? Does it AFFECT you in some adverse way if I-"

"HEY!" screamed Parter, desperate to stop her accusatory ranting. "Aren't you late for your dinner?"

"Oh, my goodness, you're right! Thanks for the reminder - talk to ya later, Lion!"

She called me 'Lion,' thought a mushy-hearted Parter. AND she had a severe mood swing! "Okay, bye!"

With that, JM hurried across the street and around the corner, not even noticing two thuggish characters stopping in their tracks and turning around to casually follow her.

But Parter did.

[Agent Thermal]

The floodgates of the heavens slowly opened upon the dreary downtown D.C. streets as JM trudged her way down the sidewalk. A change of clothes would be desperately in order if she got caught in the watery crossfire, she surmised - but then again, a Deanna Troi outfit probably warranted a change of attire regardless of the weather. As she pondered over what to wear to the French restaurant, suddenly the shrieking whoops of secluded figures pierced the relative silence. JM whipped around to see a band of distinctly nerdy individuals, ranging from teenage to middle-age, staring her down with an odd obsessiveness in their expressions.

"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed a skinnier, suspender-clad nerd with a puberty-tainted squeak. "She's got THE vintage TNG Deanna Troi Starfleet Officer uniform, complete with an authentic phaser holster AND pink neck collar trim!"

"Those sell for, like, THOUSANDS at the conventions!" exclaimed another as the entire group progressed menacingly toward her.

"Hey guys, I just got this at my audition for the broadway play that's coming up, that's all," JM stammered nervously. "I don't even know if it's real or not."

"Oh, trust me ma'am, it's REAL, and it's been on our wish list for generations," stated a third nerd matter-of-factly. "And you're gonna give it to us NOW."

"I can't, it's not even mine!" shouted JM, backing slowly into the corner the group had trapped her in. "Leave me alone!"

"Where do you think you're going, sweet stuff?" spat another zit-faced, pudgy teen as he leaned toward her, cutting off her escape route. "The convention's just BEGINNING."

"She's not even fit to wear that outfit!" taunted another geek. "She's more of a Dr. Crusher type, with the red hair and all. Of course, the fact that she doesn't know jack about Trek shows she shouldn't have been accepted for that audition in the first place!"

"Yeah, we're doin' that show a favor!"

"LONG LIVE GENE!"

Suddenly, in a blur of rain-soaked red and gray, the entire group was driven back onto their butts by a flying force coming from the side of the skirmish. Heroically, the blur righted itself, retracted the flaps beneath its arms, and landed gracefully in front of JM.

"Live short and DON'T prosper, dorks," quipped Gliderman.

"Oh wow, we just got knocked down by GLIDERMAN!" exclaimed one of the downed nerds in sheer ecstasy.

"Oh my gosh, it's really him!" added another.

"I GOTTA get his autograph, or at least his costume - you know how much those things SELL for!?"

"Sorry kids, no autographs today - and trust me, this costume is cheaper than you think," Gliderman informed the miscreants menacingly, claws extended. "Now run home to your parents' basements before I send you there myself."

"Oh man, my mom CAN NOT know about this, guys," whimpered one of the middle-aged members of the geek squad. "I'll see you all LATER."

"Yeah, my mom's gonna KILL me if she finds out too."

"Later, guys!"

With that, the once vaguely-threatening band of geeks scattered in various directions down various streets, leaving Gliderman and JM standing in the rain alone.

Seeing that JM was probably going to drill him about who he was and how he knew she was in trouble, Gliderman promptly spread his arm flaps and launched himself into the air yet again.

"Wait, Gliderman!" begged JM toward the fleeing airborne figure. "How'd you know I was in trouble? Who are you?"

Landing on a rooftop out of her sight, he quickly analyzed his answer to make sure he'd word it right.

"Well, I knew you had a knack for getting into trouble with nerds - plus, I needed to see a friendly face myself."

"So you stalk me?" teased JM playfully.

"Well, I uh.....you know, I.....I....."

"That's alright. I suppose if I had to choose SOMEONE to stalk me, it would be a superhero. They've got my best interests at heart."

"Hey, yeah, there ya go!"

"So how did you handle those dorks so easily? You're quite a natural."

"Well, you just gotta know how to deal with nerds - they're a unique breed, this much is certain."

"Yeah, they certainly are," laughed JM.

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, I'd best be going!" shouted Gliderman, spreading his arm flaps yet again.

"WAIT!" shouted JM. "Don't I get to thank you this time?"

"I think you did thank me last time, though I'm not sure."

"No, I mean PROPERLY," JM teased.

Oooohhhh....thought Parter to himself. It's about time!

"Here I am!" shouted Gliderman from behind JM suddenly, prompting her to jump and giggle. He had instantly crawled down the side of the building they had previously been backed up against, causing his now upside-down face to hover inches from hers.

She giggled once more, and reached for the bottom of his mask at the neckline.

"Wait," he cautioned.

"What for?"

"Careful how far down you peel this thing - it gets hooked on my nose sometimes, and it really hurts unless you pull it a certain way."

"Oh, don't worry - I don't need to get that far down your face," she teased further.

With that, she slowly peeled down the mask, revealing first his mask-impressed chin, then his puckered up lips.

With the softness of a dove's feather, she gently stuffed a Hallmark "Thank You" card into his mouth.

"See ya later!" she shouted as she quickly ran down the street and around the corner, out of sight of the bewildered hero. "I'm late enough for a dinner as is! I didn't know where your costume's pocket was, so I stuck it in the next best place - hope that's alright!"

[Démon]

---------

Sirens were blaring and people had congregated at the scene of an intense apartment fire. It would not be long before the media arrived, and already, sly merchants had began distributing "I Survived The Random Apartment Fire" t-shirts to the assembled spectators. The general murmur of the crowd was punctuated by a woman's scream.

"My baby's in there! My baby's in THERE!" cried a woman hysterically, as firefighters escorted her away from the danger and attempted to prevent her from running back in.
"Calm down! We'll take care of-" one of her rescuers said, before she cut him off.
"MY BABY!!! SOMEBODY SAVE MY BABY!"
"Look up there!" shouted a random spectator, and everyone tilted their heads to see the approaching figure of Gliderman.
"SAVE MY BABY! PLEASE!!" screamed the woman, having also seen the superhero. With a mid-air salute, Gliderman flew through one of the top floor windows of the apartment complex, sending glass everywhere.

A few tense moments passed, with the woman making incoherent ramblings of fear, before Gliderman emerged from the broken window. Pulling shards of glass out of his costume and grumbling, the nerdy crusader crawled along to the window of the next apartment - the one that was actually ablaze - and pushed it open and clambered in.

Several more moments passed, and the crowd held it's collective breath as they listened to the crashes within the burning apartment. A sudden explosion occurred, accompanied by a sudden blaze of fire emerging from the windows.
"NO!!" shrieked the terrified mother below, before Gliderman hopped out of the window, protectively carrying a bundle of blankets. He landed neatly in front of the woman and firefighters.
"Here's your baby, ma'am!" proclaimed Gliderman triumphantly, handing over the bundle and once again striking the Corporal Canada-esque fists-on-hips pose.
"Oh, Gliderman, thank you! Thank you!" the woman exclaimed, pulling back the hooded blankets to reveal her baby's face - a plastic, unmoving face.
"A Cabbage Patch Doll?!" yelled Gliderman in surprise and annoyance. "You sent me in there for a TOY?!" His fury was overshadowed by yet another scream; this one emanating from within the burning apartment building.

"There's somebody still in there!" a spectator called, ignorant that everyone else had already drawn that brilliant conclusion. Gliderman sighed and turned to the woman.
"What, now? Did you leave your Tickle-Me Elmo in there?"
The scream was heard again and, extending his arm flaps, Gliderman jumped into the air and soared back into the apartment, not hearing the woman respond that nobody else had lived there.

The hero landed in the middle of the burning living room, and began making his way through the excessive amount of eccentrically placed furniture, listening hard for a yell above the crackling flames. Kicking aside a random bar stool, he heard a girlish scream coming from the next room.
"I'm coming!" Gliderman called, stepping into what appeared to be the kitchen, which was also decorated with unusual taste. Recalling the hysteria with which the woman living there had screamed for her Cabbage Patch Doll, he took mental note to inform the law enforcement that she might need some form of psychiatric evaluation.
Putting his irritable thoughts aside, he glanced around and pinpointed a figure concealed under a black shawl and looking rather like a Ringwraith. That, he thought, would explain the scream. He walked towards the person, and reached out for them. The figure spun immediately, with another girlish scream, and punched him right in the face. There stood the Gray Gremlin, laughing at Gliderman sprawled on the floor, and throwing off the shawl.

"You're so predictable. 'Like a moth to the flame'." the Gremlin sneered. "I don't think I need to tell you by this point that I got that one from a sugar packet."
"But you just did." replied Gliderman, standing up. Ignoring the reply, the Gremlin went on.
"So have you considered my proposal?"
"No. And you punching me in the face really would've helped if I'd even had to actually consider my response." said Gliderman sarcastically.
"So...is that a 'yes' or a no'?" asked the Gremlin, attempting to smuggle something out of the purse he was carrying without Gliderman noticing. Rolling his eyes at this, Gliderman answered, "It's 'no', obviously."
"WRONG ANSWER!" the Gremlin yelled, before throwing several live vampire bats at his opponent.

Having expected some treachery because of the Gremlin's purse-rummaging, Gliderman was ready to dodge. However, he did not anticipate the, er, unique choice of ammunition that was flying towards him. With some serious acrobatics, he managed to avoid the bats, though he was aware that this superhero game of Twister couldn't continue forever. The knowledge that the apartment was dangerously close to collapse and that the Gremlin was closing the distance between them in order to attack forced Gliderman to conspire to finish this quickly.
In his mental distraction, however, the Gremlin had already approached him, and managed to kick him straight in the chest. The man-marsupial slid on his back along the ground slightly, before flipping backwards onto his feet. He twisted to avoid a diving vampire bat, and struck the once-again-approaching evil Power Ranger with a haymaker in one move. Pushing his advantage, he grabbed the vampire bat from the air and prepared to throw it, but it bit into his finger, drawing blood. With an agitated yell, our hero completed his intended act of animal abuse and flung the winged mammal into the face of his nemesis.
Nursing his bitten finger and intending to see a doctor about a rabies vaccination, Gliderman spun and ran to the window, ignoring the increasingly distant shrieks of "EEK! It's in my HAIR!!". He burst out of the now-windowless hole in the wall, into sweet fresh air...and inquiring, shouted comments from the crowd below wondering why he wasn't carrying anyone with him.

Freeing himself from the bat's attack, and stuffing the creature back into his purse, the Gremlin found himself alone. "No one says 'no' to ME!" raged the villain indignantly.

---------

Sorry for the humongous delay in writing this part. Hopefully it meets up to expectations!

[Agent Thermal]

A few hours later...

The tiny slits of light seemed to scan Truman's face like a barcode as his elevator slowly made its way up the shaft to Larry and Parter's apartment. His eyelids twitched uncontrollably with fatigue; which was understandable, considering he hadn't rested one iota since his last Gliderman encounter mere hours before. There was something that had been bugging him about the costumed protaganist for quite some time, now reinforced by his latest visit with the flap-spreader. It was something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was also something he knew he'd discover the nature of soon enough.

At long last, the metallic groan of the elevator doors heralded their opening, and Truman wobbled his way into the hallway leading to his destination. The family had invited him to their "Pre-Thanksgiving Dinner" (a strange Peker family tradition that Larry and JM had adopted over the past few years), and in order to give the impression that he wasn't a total freeloader, he'd brought along a wrapped package filled with official OzzyInc "Imported Chocolates" - imported from Hershey, Pennsylvania, that is.

What the customer don't know won't hurt 'em, grinned Truman devilishly to himself.

----------------------------

"JM, stop goofing around with that stuffing! My dad's gonna be here any second!" exclaimed Larry as he hurried to set up the table.

"Relax Larry - it isn't like this party is for HIM. He can help set the table with the rest of us," countered JM.

"Yeah, well....alright," sighed Larry, wondering why he'd even said what he did to begin with.

"Quiet everyone - he's coming!" whispered Aunt June as she crouched at the door.

"Aunt June - for goodness sakes, we aren't trying to surprise the guy - just let him in!" stated JM, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, fine..." pouted Aunt June as she opened the door, inviting Truman in with a passive gesture.

"Aunt June, thanks so much for having me," sputtered Truman. "I'm really sorry for being so late - work was...uhh....uhhh.."

"Murder?" suggested JM.

"No, I didn't murder anyone...it was more like, uhhhh..."

"On fire?" tried Larry.

"Closer, but still no....that doesn't quite have a negative connotation...really, it was kinda...."

"Batty?" offered Aunt June.

"Yeah, we'll go with that. It's as close as we can get without stretching the pun too far."

"No problem, dear," responded Aunt June. "And please, call me June. I'm not YOUR aunt, you know."

"Oh, right - sorry. Say, who's this young lady I see before me?" observed Truman, directing his attention back to JM.

"Oh yeah! Dad, I'd like you to meet Jerri Mayne Holmes," introduced Larry. "We call her JM for short. JM, meet my dad."

"Very nice to meet you, sir!" chirped JM in a conspicuously perky manner.

"How do ya do...?" whispered Truman in an almost distant manner. "You know, I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time now...Larry's told-"

"Happy pre-Thanksgiving, sir," said JM abruptly, hoping to end the conversation with the creepy man as soon as possible.

"Where's Parter with that cranberry juice? He was supposed to be here an hour ago!"

"Oh, Parter's late too?" asked Truman slyly, his mind's gears turning ever faster.

"Oh yes - he said he was going to be here early, but that something had come up," explained Aunt June. "It's strange, really...he said that work for him was 'batty' too..."

"You don't say...?"

Suddenly, the loud sound of crashing glass and a muffled "OW!" from the second floor penetrated the awkward silence once pervading the apartment.

"Oh, that must be Parter now!" shouted Aunt June with glee.

"Does he...usually enter like that?" asked Truman inquisitively.

"Oh yes, all the time!"

"You don't say.....listen, I've got to, uh....use the restroom. Upstairs. I'll be right back..." stammered Truman as he made his way up the stairs.

"Okay dear, but hurry back! Your food will be getting cold!" shouted Aunt June after him.

"Aunt June - the bathroom's DOWNstairs," stated a concerned JM.

"Oh...then it might be best if he didn't go into that small closet on the right, then..." advised Aunt June nervously.

----------------------------

The nerdiness, the being late, the crashing into windows consistantly...this is no mere coincidence...mused Truman to himself. He carefully made his way towards the room he originally heard the crash, hoping not to cause Parter to detect his presence. As he approached the doorway to Parter's room, he heard the distinct shuffle of panic. It's time.

Truman whipped around as quickly as possible, only to face a room filled with, not a certain superhero, but various nerdy articles and knick-knacks scattered about. Dirty clothes, nature magazines, empty beakers, the works. With a muttered curse, Truman turned away to search the other rooms.

But not before he heard the soft pat of a drop of blood on the floor.

Whipping around to face the room again, he now noticed the tiny red puddle that had recently manifested itself, situated squarely in the center of the room. With an evil grin, Truman then lifted his gaze up to the ceiling, intending to catch Parter red-fingered. But, as it figured, nothing greeted him but pencils lodged in the ceiling. Typical of an overly bored nerd with super-strength, scowled Truman.

Well, on to that smelly room in the hallway on the right. Maybe he's hiding in there.

---------------------

"Hey guys! Sorry I'm so late..." apologized Parter as he burst through the front door of the apartment. "I had to beat an old lady with a stick just to get the cranberry juice you wanted!"

The entire group laughed heartily.

"No, seriously, I really did beat an old lady with a stick."

An awkward silence ensued.

Suddenly, a desperate scream of "OH MY GOD!" came down from the upstairs hallway, with Truman following the voice down the stairs as quickly as possible, hand over mouth and nose in a disgusted fashion.

"Whatever is the matter, Truman?" asked Aunt June innocently.

Truman cleared his throat, composed himself. "Uh, nothing, nothing is wrong. You guys go ahead and dig in, I'm gonna sit down a bit - let my stomach, uh, settle."

"But we need you to say grace, dear!"

"'Grace' - there, I said it. Now leave me alone."

"Truman!"

"It's okay, Aunt June," interrupted Parter. "I can say it."

"Very well then dear, you go right ahead," encouraged Aunt June, who suddenly noticed the bloody bite on Parter's throwing-hand index finger.

"Parter dear, where'd you get that horrible gash on your hand? It almost looks like you grabbed a vampire bat, as unlikely as that would be."

At that peculiar observation, Truman shot up from his previously laying down position on the couch, listening intently to the excuse he knew Parter would make up.

"Uhhh...you're close Aunt June," began Parter as he constructed a lie in his head. "I actually threw a lesser spear-nosed bat today - at work, we were having a nature-throwing contest, and I won second place! I would've gotten first, but Freddie Crock had to bring a conch, which is strangely more aerodynamic than most shellfish, and plus my lesser spear-nosed bat decided to fly south once I threw it, and well, one thing led to another."

"How..." stammered Truman, "...did you say you hurt yourself again?"

"Well, see, today at work, we had a nature-throwing contest. I had a lesser spear-nosed bat, and Freddie Crock had a conch, and see, conchs are more aero-"

"That's okay Part, I think he gets it," interrupted JM, staring harshly at Truman.

"Yes, she's right, it doesn't matter now," stated Truman gravely as he stood up. "Something has come to my attention, and it's imperative that I leave now. I'm very sorry about this - I hope you enjoy the chocolates. They're imported, so that makes them better, you see."

With that, the rapidly graying Truman booked it out the front door, doing so in the most awkward way possible. The rest of the group at the table looked at each other, then accusingly at Larry.

Larry rolled his eyes, and got up to confront his father outside the door.

"Dad, what are you doing?" demanded Larry as he made his way to the outside of the apartment. "I invited you over here to meet JM, and now you're already leaving? Why are you acting so weird?"

"I'M weird?" shot back Truman. "For goodness sakes, Larry - they poop in their upstairs broom closet, and you're calling ME weird?"

Larry made a face of disgust. "Really?"

"It's beside the point - what I'm trying to say is, I gotta go. And really, now that I think about it, this whole girlfriend thing isn't going to work out for you anyway. So just dump her."

"But dad, you were so supportive and polite around her a couple of minutes ago!"

"It doesn't matter what I did! Look - she's pretty. You're pretty. I'm pretty. We're all pretty. But do you honestly think that she's after you because you're nice and have a cool dad?"

"Well, not exactly.."

"You're right, she isn't! She's after your money, just like your mother!"

"My mother was after my money?"

"Ugh, forget it. You just do what you want," spat Truman as he stepped into the waiting elevator. "But don't be surprised if she comes after you 5 years from now like a rabbit after Trix, wanting all your 'support' and 'love' and 'shopping money' and 'food' and stupid stuff like that."

With that, Truman slammed the rickety elevator cage-door so hard that it flew off its hinges and down the hallway about 20 yards.

"Uh....I'll just use the stairs," he muttered.

-----------------------

JM stewed in her seat as Larry dejectedly made his way back into the apartment. Parter just looked on in confusion at the situation unfolding before him.

"Sorry you guys had to hear that," said a defeated Larry.

"Thanks for sticking up for me, Larry," whimpered JM as she grabbed her coat and began to storm out the door. "I still can't believe your creep of a dad said those things."

"Hey, that 'creep' you're talking about is my father! If I'm lucky, I'll be about 4/8 of what he is!"

"LAWRENCE OZZYBOURNE!" shouted Aunt June.

"What?"

"Simplify your fractions this instant, young man!"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm leaving," interrupted JM for the last time. "Thanks for the dinner, Aunt June - I'm sure it would've been edible. Bye Part."

With that, JM slammed the door, leaving the remaining 3 in silence.

"So..." chuckled Parter finally, hoping to break the tension. "...THAT'S why it smells so bad upstairs, huh?"