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By Wil Forbis

"Metro City is definitely quiet" Plasma-Man thought while soaring through the air. "Too quiet, if you ask me." Plasma-Man knew that it was wise to be wary of quiet. For it was when things seemed their calmest that the criminal element would prepare to strike, to crawl out from their underground hideouts and try to further the causes of evil, dastardliness and neferiousness. "But they will never succeed..." Plasma-Man thought, "Because Plasma Man is here!"

"Aww fuggit!" Plasma-Man said aloud. He had sworn to himself that he was going to stop thinking in self aggrandizing, promotional paragraphs that sounded like theyíd be written by some third rate comic book hack. Truthfully, sometimes evil did win, there was no denying it. Plasma-Man couldnít be everywhere all at once (that was Fat-Manís job.) "In fact," Plasma-Man mused aloud, "Sometimes I wonder why I donít just switch sides and turn to evil. I am the greatest superhero in the city."

This was true. Up until a few years ago the greatest superhero in the city had been Doctor Devo, a caped clod who ran around in blue underwear and a de-evolutionary ring. Using his special ring, Dr. Devo could de-evolve a criminal until into an earlier, more primitive version of themselves (read:monkeys) and they could be safely apprehended. Hell, the entire membership of the Devilís Squadron were now on display at the Metro-City zoo. Unfortunately Doctor Devo had accidentally aimed his beam at himself and was now dancing for quarters on Metro-City street corners. That left Plasma-Man as the greatest superhero.

"And Iím a damn good one too," Plasma-Man thought while lighting a Camel un-filtered with a small plasma blast from his finger. "I owe it all too that blast of Plasma-Gas I took while serving in the top secret UN attack squad in the Middle East. When my entire team of commandos was wiped out by international terrorists I knew I would have to dedicate my life to eradicating, criminals, evildoers and homosexuals everywhere!" Plasma-Man often found himself re-calling his origin in a short, encapsulated format, usually right before the beginning of a new adventure. He knew better than to ask why.

Looking down Plasma-Man noticed a whole lot of smoke coming from the outer perimeter of Metro-City. Flying in closer he could see that two trains had crashed on their tracks and a variety of ambulances, police cars and news people had arrived at the scene. "Better see what I can do to help" Plasma-Man thought as he shot down to the earth like a Plasma-comet.

As he dropped down to the wreckage, Plasma-Man could see that it was pretty bad. Bodies lay everywhere in violent, twisted contortions. "Cool!" Plasma-Man thought. "I love looking at dead people."

Suddenly Laura Lung, television reporter for KNFX Metro-City came rushing up to Plasma-Man. She was obviously babbling away at him, but mysteriously Plasma-Man could hear nothing. "Egads!" he thought. Had some supervillian used their powers to take away his Plasma-hearing? Plasma-Man knew this was standard fare for an old nemesis, Iíll-Take-Away-Your-Plasma-Hearing-Man. But as far as PM knew, he was safely in jail. "Ohhh, dogfuckers!" Plasma-Man thought. "I know what it is." He reached behind his mask and pulled out two ear-plugs from his ears. They were handy in getting a good couple hourís worth of zzzzs in the Plasma HQ (it could get pretty noisy in there.) Heíd simply forgotten to take them out.

Once the earplugs were removed, Laura Lungís blathering became audible. "How could you let this disaster happen Plasma-Man? Where were you when we needed you Plasma-Man? Look how many people died because of you Plasma-Man!" It was the usual nonsense and frankly Plasma-Man was getting tired of hearing it.

"Donít get your underwear all in a bunch," Plasma-man said to Laura. "Why donít we ditch this scene and go off to my Fortress of Solitude and get to know each other better. I can play you my new Esquivel and then we can make hot, sweet love."

"Iíd sooner make love to Monkey-Boy," Laura replied "At least heís there when you need him."

"Iím sorry, Ms. Lung" Plasma-Man said. "I didnít hear what you were saying. I got distracted using my Plasma-Vision to see through your dress and check out your skivies. Nice red panties by the way."

"Two things for you Plasma-Man: One - You donít have Plasma-Vision. Two - My panties are blue."

"Thatís why youíre so frigid, honey. What you need is a little Plasma-Love."

"You know what Plasma-Man?" Laura said. "Go burn in hell!" With that she stormed off.

"Dyke!" Plasma-Man yelled at her as she left. "I hope you get AIDS!" But deep down he was ruminating on what it would be like to be in a Plasma-Sandwich with both Laura Lung and Aztec Girl. That would really get some juices flowing.

"Plasma-Man!" A Police Sergeant suddenly yelled out. "The mayor is calling you on the Plasma-Phone. He says itís urgent!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Plasma-Man replied. Right now the only thing that seem urgent was separating Laura Lungís legs and... oh, and helping all these dying people. Plasma-Man, ruefully unattached the Plasma-Phone from his utility belt. "Plasma-Man here," he said into the speaker. "Whaddaya want?"

"Plasma-Man, this is the mayor!" a voice crackled over the receiver. "Iím using the Plasma-Phone to contact you because..."

"Youíre using the Plasma-Phone?!" Plasma-Man thundered. "Iím the only one with the Plasma-Phone. When you become Plasma-Man then you can use the Plasma-Phone. And frankly, I donít see that happening anytime soon, tubby."

"Oh," said the mayor. "Then what am I speaking into right now?"

"I donít fugginí know," said Plasma-Man. "The Mayor-Phone I guess."

"Right, well anyway, Lightning Butler is attacking downtown Metro-City. Youíve got to get over there right away."

"Look, Mr. Mayor. I donít "got" to do anything. But it so happens Iíve had a special feud with Lightning Butler for years now. Letís just say heís served up his last Chamomile!"

"Excellent. The city will never be able to repay you for what youíve done, Plasma-Man!"

"Well..." Plasma-Man ruminated. "You might let me take a poke at that wife of yours. Sheís a pretty hot number considering sheís married to a whale like you."

"Roger that, Plasma-Man," the mayor said. "This is the mayor on the Mayor-Phone saying over and out!"

"Whatever..." Plasma-Man said to the now dead phone line. He considered tracking down that bitch Laura Lung so she could follow him downtown and see how a real superhero did things. But, Ďfuck herí he figured. Sheíll get hers eventually. With those noble sentiments he launched into the air.

Flying through the sky, Plasma-Man made a noteworthy sight. His costume was a mostly white, skin-tight suit, with a pull-over mask and red boots. A red circle lay across the his chest, a design flaw that caused many people to confuse him with Samurai Boy, the leading Japanese superhero. "Yeah, like youíd ever catch me eating raw fish," Plasma-Man often replied to those whom made the mix up. Certainly Plasma-Manís costume could be considered plain, but at least it wasnít the over flamboyant spectacle that imbecile, Lizard-Man, wore. "Course that dork happens to swing the other way, if you get my drift." Plasma-Man thought to himself. "Heíll fight Doctor Evil then itís straight to the Diana Ross lookalike contest."

Arriving close to the center of town, it was easy to see where Lightning Butler was maintaining his attack. A British ex-manservant named Cadbury Smithleworth, Lighting Butler had the power to shoot high voltage blasts of electricity from his hands, and you could see said blasts echoing around the Metro business district. Plasma-Man had sent L.B. to jail more than once and was happy to do so again. "Maybe, this time Iíll take care of that fucker permanently!" Plasma-Man thought.

Gliding into the scene on the corner of 5th and Main Plasma-Man could see that Lightning Butler was having a field day. He was floating on a stream of electricity about fifteen feet off the ground and a crowd of people were cowering in fear below. Lightning Butler was indiscriminantly firing off blasts of lightning, all the while ranting about the decrepit eating habits of Americans.

"Hey Scumball!" Plasma-Man called out. "I donít like limeys in general, but your ass takes the cake. How Ďbout picking on someone who can promptly kick your butt!"

"Plasma-man, old chap," LB returned. "I say, it is good to see you. Iíve got a special dish prepared for youÖ Itís called ĎREVENGE.í"

"Well, I love a good meal" Plasma-Man countered while floating a good twenty feet above the sparkling Englishmen. "Is it fish and chips?"

"No," Lightning Butler said, somewhat confused. "As I said, itís ĎREVENGEí"

"How Ďbout a good pizza? Is that what youíve got for me? I always like a good pizza, even one made by you fucking limeys."

"Are you listening to me Plasma-Man?" LB replied. "The meal is ĎREVENGEí"

"Revenge?" Plasma-Man said. "That doesnít sound very tasty. How bout some sweet and sour chicken?"

"You just donít get it do you?," the Englishman fumed. "Itís not a real meal. Iím being figurative. Iím saying "REVENGE" is like an actual meal and Iím going to offer it to you. Thus Iím going to enact vengeance on you. Good Lord, itís a very common literary device, even someone of your neglectful breeding should be able to.."

"Hey, so I ainít Emily Dickinson, Jeeves," Plasma-Man said angrily. "That doesnít mean I canít kick your ass. Just eat hot plasma!" Plasma-Man fired off a blast of pure red energy.

"It is childís play to dodge such an obvious onslaught,"Lightning Butler said skirting out of the way. The blast continued past him into the crowd of people below, unfortunately incinerating two of them.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Plasma-Man chastised himself. "Iíve got remember to look past where Iím aiming. You think I would have learned from the Disneyland Disaster." (Ed. See The Adventures of Plasma-Man #124)

"Right-ho now" Lightning Butler teased. "It looks like youíve made mullet out of two of your citizens. Whatís that about Ďeh?"

"Goddamn you Frenchy!" Plasma man yelled. "Iím taking your ass down." With that he rocketed towards LB causing a mild explosion when they collided.

"Aaargh" said Lightning Butler, reeling from the blow. "Your brute strength almost makes up for your limited cerebral ability, old chap. But can you withstand a full blast of electro power?!" With that he unleashed several hundred thousand volts of lightning.

The force of LBís barrage sent Plasma-Man flying to the ground. He immediately sat up and noticed that he was near a busload of orphans being escorted by several nuns on a city outing. They were staring in shock and horror. Plasma-Man knew that it was part of his job to be role model for children and saw this as an opportunity to exercise that responsibility. He wanted them to see that even though things were getting difficult he was going to get up and finish the job. "Donít worry kids," he called out. "Plasma-Man is gonna take that bitch out! Iím gonna make him eat the shit outta my asshole!" Two of the nuns fainted, obviously overcome by the situation. A small Asian child said "Yeah!"

Standing up Plasma-Man concentrated. Summoning up all his Plasma Power, he shot a extra powerful Plasma blast from his eyes. Firing from his eyes was no more effective than firing from his hands, but damn, it sure looked cool.

Unfortunately, LB was again able to dodge the incoming blast. The stray bolt of Plasma Power etched off into the distance finally hitting and destroying the top seven floors of a nearby skyscraper.. "Wow," Plasma-Man thought. "It looks like I really am going to end up killing more people than I save this time. But what the hell. Iíve saved millions of people in this town. Iím comped." Besides, Plasma-Man had once dated a secretary in that building and frankly, sheíd turned out to be a real bitch.

"Good Lord, old boy" LB said. "Youíre more of a menace to society than I am. They ought to make me the hero of this town."

"That itís you crumpet eating, tea drinking, Beatles listening queer!" Plasma-Man thundered "Iím taking you out! Youíre gonna be back in prison getting sodomized by a Hellís Angel tonight!" With that, he flew at Lightning Butler, arms extended and glowing with Plasma-Power.

Seeing him coming, Lightning Butler used his surfboard of electric power to expediently zoom away from the incoming superhero. Plasma-man, incapable of changing his trajectory raced past LB and up into the sky.

"Good bye old chap!" LB yelled out as Plasma-Man went past him. "Iíll be taking my leave now." He used his power to rapidly fly down Main street. Wishing to ensure that he wasnít being followed, Lightning Butler turned his head to take a look behind him. As a result he ran directly into a series of power lines. The collision of Lightning Butler and the power lines caused several blinding explosions and the short circuiting of the surrounding ten blocks of downtown. But perhaps the most important thing to be short circuited was Lightning Butler.

Lighting Butler fell twenty feet to the ground and lay there. He rolled over to groan. Blood spattered out of his mouth. Plasma-Man, who had now been able to correct his course, descended to the ground and inspected the battered body of his arch-nemesis.

"Hah!" Plasma-Man said. "Youíre fucked."

"Plasma-Man my old enemy," Lightning Butler began. "It does look indeed like my time had come. Our long running battle has taken itís course."

"Thatís right Limey. And donít think Iím calling an ambulance either. You can just lie here shitting up your fairy costume."

"But what will you do upon my passing, Plasma-Man?" Lightning Butler gasped. "You and I are connected, you know. We need each other to keep Godís intended balance. My lord, How did Eliot put it? He said:

"We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dry voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and... aRGH!"

"Whatever," Plasma-man said bringing his boot down on Lightning Butlerís neck, snapping it. "Poetry is for homos!"

Later that night Plasma-Man went to the Steel Codpiece, the local superhero bar. Upon entering, Carrot-Master gave him a salute. "Nice work in the field today," he complemented. Dog-Woman smiled seductively and said "Mmmmm, Plasma-Man, any chance youíve got a bone for me to chew on?"

"Beat it, she-bitch," was Plasma-Manís reply. Once, when heíd been really drunk heíd taken Dog-Woman home and his bed had smelled like wet golden retriever ever since.

Plasma-Man walked up to the bar and ordered a scotch and soda from Frank, the bartender. "Man, Iím going to get blitzed tonight!" Plasma-Man thought to himself. "Maybe later Iíll fly home and vaporize mailboxes on the way."

"Hey, Plasma-Man!" yelled out Piano-Lord, leader of the Super Squad. "I think Sophecles-Man was looking for you."

"Oh great," Plasma-Man thought. Sophecles-Man had been a superhero in the forties, fighting Nazis and all that, but now he was just a tired relic, content doing shopping mall appearances. He considered himself to be a grandfather to the current superhero scene and was always going about giving annoying advice. Plasma-Man deliberated upon leaving the joint but gave up when he saw Sophecles-Man brush past the Squid Eater and head in his direction.

"Plasma-Man!" Sophecles-Man said, putting his arm on PMís shoulder. "How are you, my boy?"

"UhhÖ Iím fine, dude," Plasma-Man replied, downing his scotch and ordering another. "Anything I can help you with?"

"WellÖ actually son, there was something I wanted to discuss with you. Itís about what happened todayÖ"

"Ohhh man," Plasma-Man whined. "Youíre not going to ride my ass about killing all those people are you? Cause let me tell you right now Iím not in the mood."

"No, no, no. Itís not that at all," Sophecles-man chuckled. "Why back inÖ letís see, I believe it was 1943, I jumped in a Nazi tank and accidentally opened fire on some of our boys. Killed thirty-seven of them if I recall. No, son, that goes with the territory."

"Blah, blah blah," said Plasma-Man. "You gonna get to your point, grampa? Or do I have to sit around till Iím a hundred years old as well?"

"Well, Plasma-man" continued Sophecles-Man. "I was talking to some of those nuns you saved today andÖ"

"Great," Plasma-Man interrupted. "Did you talk to the one with the big rack? I was kind of wondering if she might want to thank me by letting me do a little of Godís work under her hood, you know? I mean, Iíve never drilled a nun before."

"UhhhÖ no." said Sophecles-Man. "I donít think I talked to that particular nun. I justÖ"

"Too bad." Plasma-Man interrupted again while swigging down his second scotch. "She was a pretty decent piece of bush."

"My point here, Plasma-Man," Sophecles-Man said, his voice suddenly becoming quite stern, "Is that I wasnít too happy to hear about some of the language you were using. Superheros need to set an example and that doesnít involve the sort of racy pitter-patter that is only appropriate from a vaudeville comedian. I simply would hope thatÖ"

"You old fossil!" Plasma-Man suddenly yelled. "You better fucking get off my back. Letís see how tough you are when I grab your balls and slowly start to increase the temperature. Like THIS! Howís that feel grampa?"

"Actually, thatís quite wonderful. I mean, hey, OWWW! Stop that."

"Better have the nurse clean out your Depends tonight, you fucking mummy!" Plasma-Man said, expending a small amount of energy to warm Sophecles-Manís testicles.

"You big bully. Stop that!" said Justice-Woman.

"Yeah," piped in the Thin-Man. "Leave him alone."

"You puny scarecrow!" Plasma-Man said, releasing Sophecles-Man and approaching the Thin Man. "Iíd knock you out right now, only youíre so skinny youíd probably dry up and blow away."

The Thin Man backed off, cowering, and mumbled, "The big bully. Iíll get evenÖ some day."

"Oh donít let it bother you, little boy" Justice Woman said, trying to console him.

"How about the rest of you?" Plasma-man yelled at the crowd of superheros gathering. "Who wants a piece of me? WHICH ONE OF YOU WANTS A PIECE?!"

"Not me," said the Kurt Jester. "Youíre all right in my book, Plasma-Man."

"Dig it, PM. Youíre one groovy cat," said Lenny Bruce-Man.

"Please donít hurt any of us," said Please-Donít-Hurt-Any-Of-Us-Man.

"Bah!" yelled Plasma-Man. "Youíre all a bunch of pussies. Why donít you go have some 60ís love orgy." He then sat back down at the bar and ordered another scotch.

"Wow, that sounds like a plan," said Hippie-Man, though no-one paid him much attention.

Well, it was another successful day for Plasma-Man. Once again, heíd defended Metro-City from harm and done it with a minimum of losses to friendly fire. All and all, he felt that he was really living up to his role as scourge of the criminal element. He was laying down the rules, laying down the law. People in Metro-City knew that if they were going to try something evil, they would do so at their own risk. They knew that the punishment could be severe. And if they knew one very important thing, it was this: Donít fuck with Plasma-Man!

Wil Forbis is a well known international playboy who lives a fast paced life attending chic parties, performing feats of derring-do and making love to the world's most beautiful women. Together with his partner, Scrotum-Boy, he is making the world safe for democracy. Email -

Visit Wil's web log, The Wil Forbis Blog, and receive complete enlightenment.