* * * * * *

The Looniverse's Mightiest Heroes -- no, that's not strictly true. The Looniverse's Strangest Heroes -- not even close. The Heroes with the Most Free Time in the Looniverse (there we go) band together to fight the minor inconveniences and petty annoyances of modern urban life as the LNH 'TSK' FORCE. Led by the enigmatic Convoluted Origin Man, this hand-picked team of, er, specialists is ready to handle any threat, no matter how puny or insignificant.

LNH 'Tsk' Force #9: "Cable Bill, part 4"

Starring: Convoluted Origin Man, Mainstream Man, Kid Unique, Bandwagon Chick, No Sense of Direction Man, Dr. Stomper and Contraption Man

Guest Starring: the League of New-Wave Heroes

Special Guest Villain: Dr. Heironymus Wrenchbreaker

Extra-Special Guest Villain: Professor Bright (The Supervillain Formerly Known as Supplyslide)

* * * * * *

Dr. Webb sighed and ran a hand through her curly red hair. "Look, that's all I know. He said he was Radio Star of the LNH and that he and some other people were trapped in a strange energy field."

Mainstream Man turned to Bandwagon Chick, who sat nearby flipping halfheartedly through a stack of computer printouts. "Any luck?"

"The roster hasn't been updated in ages. He might be one of those Max Factor guys . . ."

"Teen Factor, you mean?"

"That's it. I'm planning to start reading their series next month."

"Figures. Anyway, as far as I know, there's no one called Radio Star in Teen Factor."

"I hate to be a bumblebee in your teakettle," Dr. Webb said. "But could you ask Doctor Stomper if he's done with my car yet?" Stomper had insisted on examining her car radio, over which she'd received the mysterious message.

"Sure," Mainstream Man said. He pressed a button on his wrist communicator thingy. "Mainstream Man to Doc Stomper. Hey, Doc, how soon can Dr. Webb have her car back?"

Stomper's voice came back. "Can she spare it another fifteen minutes?"

Mainstream Man looked at Dr. Webb, who nodded. "She says okay. MM out."

"Excuse me, I just need to call my son's day care." Dr. Webb pulled a cell phone out of her pocket, stepped away from the group, and pressed a few buttons. "This is Clytemnestra Webb. I'll be picking Danny up in about half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes. Thanks again for being so understanding about this. I've just got one too many eggs in the bread box today. Okay, see you then." She hung up.

Kid Unique, entering the room with a handful of papers, caught the tail end of this conversation. "Dude," he whispered to Mainstream Man, "I was hitting on somebody's mom."

"Dude, you were hitting on a woman named Clytemnestra," Mainstream Man said.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. What'd you find?"

Kid Unique flipped through the papers he'd brought in. "I think we found it. There were these guys called the League of New-Wave Heroes, back in the Eighties. And their leader was called Radio Star. Nobody's seen them in fifteen years."

"Good job, Kid. Say, wasn't No Sense of Direction Man with you?"

"Yeah, he's right -- " Kid Unique spun around. "Um, I thought he was right behind me. I better go find him."

* * * * * *

An hour or so later, Dr. Stomper stood at a lectern in the main LNH Auditorium, explaining the New-Wave Heroes' situation. "To sum up, we're fairly certain that Radio Star attempted to save his team from annihilation by 'overloading' his radio-based energy powers. [As seen in Issue #6 -- Footnote Girl]

"When Radio Star's powers overloaded, it stopped the feedback loop, but by that time the team members had absorbed so much energy that they couldn't maintain the integrity of their matter-based forms. They were transformed to pure radio energy and presumably dispersed into the cosmos.

"Until this afternoon, when Dr. Webb heard Radio Star's voice on her car stereo as she was scanning from station to station, trying to find one that wasn't having an 'All Eighties' weekend.

We theorize that the high volume of 1980s style music -- the very sort of music that might have been broadcast at the time of the energy transformation event -- helped to provide a context in which these New-Wave Heroes were able to attempt to regain their connection with the material world. But it was not enough, which is why I've asked all the available Legionnaires to assemble here this afternoon.

"Mainstream Man, Bandwagon Chick and No Sense of Direction Man are handing out lists of obscure 1980s recording artists. We'd like each of you to take a list and call as many radio stations as you can, requesting one song from your list on each call. If we can flood the airwaves with signals that haven't been broadcast since that fateful day fifteen years ago, we think we can provide the LNH -- the other LNH, that is -- with a link back into the material world. Contraption Man is up on the roof now, rigging up a giant radio antenna and an adjustable-frequency radio-energy crystallizer. If all goes well, we think we can rescue them."

A general murmur went through the audience as the scattered heroes looked over the lists the 'Tsk' Force members handed them. "Sigue Sigue Sputnik?" "The Stranglers?" "The Communards?" "The Housemartins?" "Microdisney?" "Book of Love?" "Rank and File?" "Guadalcanal Diary?" "Scritti Politti and Haysi Fantayzee?" "Wall of Voodoo, Black Uhuru, Kajagoogoo and the Hoodoo Gurus?"

* * * * * *

A couple of hours later, Convoluted Origin Man arrived in a Legion flight.thingy. He found Dr. Stomper on the roof, adjusting a machine that resembled a giant crystal radio set attached to six open, upright glass coffins. "Are you using this setup to find Wrenchbreaker?" he asked.

"Actually, something else has come up." Stomper quickly summarized the situation.

"But it isn't working?"

"Apparently not," Stomper said, glancing at text scrolling by on a small monitor.

"What's that?" Convoluted Origin Man said, stepping up to read over his shoulder.

"Contraption Man rigged this up. It lists of all the songs being played on radio stations within range of our receiver. We're using it to monitor the overall '80s content of the airwaves."

Stomper frowned at the readout. "U2. Oingo Boingo. The Police. The B-52s." He shook his head. "Maybe that's the problem."

"What do you mean? Those are all '80s groups."

"Technically, yes. But think about this. When's the last time you heard 'Dead Man's Party?'"

"I don't know. Probably last week some time, in the car."

"Or 'Every Breath You Take?'"

"Um, last Tuesday in the grocery store."

"Okay, now when's the last time you heard 'Bela Lugosi's Dead?'"

Convoluted Origin Man thought for a second. A huge grin spread across his face. "Oh, wow. Must have been 1984. It was this little dive bar just outside of Denver. I was dating this girl who worked for Coloradoans for Mondale . . . Oh, I get it! Those songs you hear all the time anyway don't really 'connect' to the '80s anymore. They're just part of the background."

He tapped a button on his wrist communicator thingy. "Convoluted Origin Man to Mainstream Man. What's your favorite radio station?"

"WWW. Why?"

"WWW or WWWY?"

"Sorry, just the W's. And then the question, 'Why' as in 'Why do you ask?'"

"Tell you later. Convoluted Origin Man out." He tapped the button again. "Convoluted Origin Man to Contraption Man. Can you adjust this device to not receive broadcasts from station WWW?"

"Not a problem. Give me five minutes."

"You've got just ten, mister. Convoluted Origin Man out."

* * * * * *

Five -- or possibly ten -- minutes later, Contraption Man attached a pair of long cables to the receiver. "This will let you filter out any stations you don't want."

Dr. Stomper studied his monitor for a few seconds. "I think it's working. Put the LNH energy patterns on this screen and switch the radio back to audio." Convoluted Origin Man fiddled with a few knobs and overlapping snippets of music filled the air.

"so I got into camouflage" "I'm being chased by the National Front" "girls, rock your boys" "I'm at a fruit machine, a 1960s dream"

A swirling cloud of bluish sparks appeared around the crystal receiver.

"no serenade, no fire brigade" "were you praying at the lares shrine" "hanging out without parachutes" "can the people on TV see me"

The cloud of sparks slowly extended five tendrils along the wires connecting the receiver to the clear cabinets.

"by the way you parked your car sideways" "and the girls where you work don't treat you so well" "sitting in the corner with my coffee and tray"

Gradually, a human form appeared in the first box. A thin young man with a blonde mohawk in a sleeveless flannel shirt stood unsteadily for a brief moment, buckled at the knees, and then fell unconscious, face first, onto the roof.

"I'm not expecting to grow flowers in the desert" "you kept on walking down the corridor" "everybody happy as the dead come home"

One by one, three more figures appeared. A young man whose head appeared to be made of or covered in a shiny metallic substance tipped over and struck the roof surface with a resounding clang. A well-dressed young black man lost his porkpie hat as he, too, fell senseless to the concrete. A black-haired young woman in a trenchcoat started to say "Wait . . ." before folding at the knees and sinking in a graceful swoon.

"huh! do I wanna go out?!" "you raise me and then you let me fall" "she's got a birthmark that looks just like a staple"

The entire assembly began to shake alarmingly and the remaining blue sparks swirled faster and faster, with an audible whine.

"SCIENCE!"

Suddenly the speakers fell silent, Dr. Stomper's screen went blank, and a young man in a white jumpsuit fell out of the final cabinet.

"Those probably should have been horizontal," Convoluted Origin Man said.

"Vertical looked cooler," Contraption Man explained.

* * * * * *

A few minutes later, the unconscious Leaguers had been conveyed to more comfortable accommodations in the medical lab. Radio Star groaned and sat up. "Guess it worked," he mumbled.

Doctor Stomper looked over. "Yes. By deliberately overloading your powers, you saved yourself and your teammates from Supplyslide's trap. On the down side, you were all trapped in energy form for about fifteen years."

"Fifteen years?" The other New-Wave Heroes began to stir.

"I'm afraid so. Now that the rest of your team seem to have regained consciousness, perhaps introductions are in order."

Radio Star sat up unsteadily and rubbed his eyes. "So we're skipping the part where each team mistakes the other for villains and we fight?"

"I thought we'd take that as read, yes. You're not in the best shape and this issue's already running long. Anyway, you're in Net.ropolis, in the headquarters of the Legion of net.Heroes. I'm Doctor Stomper, the Legion's science advisor. These people are the LNH 'Tsk' Force: Convoluted Origin Man is their leader, No Sense of Direction Man comes from a dimension that looks like an Escher engraving, Bandwagon Chick drives a mystical bandwagon, Kid Unique has any superpower that no one else has, and Mainstream Man . . . um, doesn't read indie comics."

"I see. Well, this is Metalhead. He lost his entire head in an accident and had it replaced by a metal prosthetic one. Rude Boy and Cowpunk are the martial artists in the group and Gothique deals with the mystical side of things. I'm the leader, Radio Star."

The 'Tsk' Force and the New-Wave Heroes nodded at each other in turn. "So what happens now?" Cowpunk asked.

"Now we team up and find Wrenchbreaker," Convoluted Origin Man said.

"Wrenchbreaker?" Rude Boy asked. "Wasn't he the geezer we were trying to rescue? He had that Death Ray?"

"Deregulation Ray, actually, but yes, that's the guy," Convoluted Origin Man said. "He's apparently stolen the ray from a top secret warehouse and brought it to Net.ropolis. We recently met a man whose bodily growth had been completely deregulated. We've got to scour the city, find Wrenchbreaker, learn what he's up to and stop him if necessary."

"Oh, man, that'll take forever," Kid Unique said. "Why not just

turn on the Plot Channel?"

Seeing the puzzled looks on the faces of the New-Wave Heroes, Doctor Stomper explained, "Here in the future, we have a lot of specialty cable television networks. The Plot Channel is a service that a lot of superheroes and detectives subscribe to. It uses a metafictive non-deterministic --"

"Cut to the chase, Doc," Convoluted Origin Man interrupted. "You turn on the TV and there's a news broadcast that gives you whatever information you need at the current stage of the plot."

"Why don't you just use it all the time?" Gothique asked quietly.

"It only works when you really need it."

"Which we do," Kid Unique said, picking up a nearby remote and clicking a few buttons.

The image of a smiling young woman in a dark blazer appeared on the TV screen. She was saying, " . . . more bad news for the beleaguered Puttersville Country Club." The picture shifted to scenes of a group of protesters milling around in front of a big wrought iron gate with the words 'Puttersville Country Club' spelled out under a crossed pair of giant putters which in turn supported a pyramid of three golf balls. "Just months after being voted the lamest recreational facility in Net.ropolis for the fifth year in a row, the Gordon Park miniature golf course is under fire tonight from neighborhood residents who say the owners have gone too far. Residents complain that the golf course has illegally annexed neighboring property, and that the addition of new so-called 'extreme mini-golf' events, some of which involve machine gun fire, live hand grenades, and killer robots, represents a danger to public safety. Puzzled Net.ropolis officials responded to these charges by saying that they can't find any law or ordinance on the books that applies to miniature golf courses."

The image switched back to the newsreader. "On the lighter side, local drunks report seeing strange lights in the sky over --"

Convoluted Origin Man reached up and switched the television off. "Bonnie, get the horses hitched up. Everybody else, meet on the roof in three minutes."

* * * * * *

"All right, why does a supervillain operate out of a miniature golf course?" Mainstream Man asked.

"Because he's insane?" Bandwagon Chick said. "I mean look at that." She pointed toward a three-quarter-scale medieval castle in the center of the park. "Totally nuts."

"Don't sell him short just 'cause he's loco," Cowpunk said. "Plenty of crazy eggheads like him have kicked us around the barnyard a few times with their fancy gizmos."

"There he is, on the parapet," Convoluted Origin Man said, pointing to a thin white-haired man in a lab coat, standing in front of what looked like a small podium covered in switches and dials. "See if you can get in a little bit closer without -- " He was interrupted by a jarring metallic scraping sound as the Bandwagon suddenly jerked to a halt, tossing the passengers to the floor.

"Getting into the range of some kind of tractor beam?" Radio Star asked.

"Just relax, superheroes," the mocking voice of Dr. Wrenchbreaker called from below. "I have you in some kind of tractor beam."

"We'd worked that out, actually, thanks," Convoluted Origin Man shouted back. "While we're waiting for you to kill us or whatever, why not tell us your origin story?"

"My what?"

"You know, explain why you're a villain now," Radio Star said. "Last we saw you, you were just a regular mad scientist."

"Well, well. The League of New-Wave Heroes. I really did think I'd seen the last of you. It was seeing how handily Supplyslide dispatched you pathetic losers that inspired me to make the transition from mad scientist to supervillain. It's a fairly common career path, I'm led to believe."

While he was talking, Convoluted Origin Man whispered to No Sense of Direction Man, "Can you see him?"

"Sure. Want me to walk over there and turn off the tractor beam?"

"Yeah. Wait until he steps away from that control panel."

"What's he going to do?" Metalhead asked.

"Check this out, it's cool," Kid Unique told him. "He can teleport, sort of."

Meanwhile, Wrenchbreaker continued on with his speech, pacing back and forth in front of the control panel. "And what better place to launch my reign of terror than a miniature golf course? After I liberated my Deregulation Ray from your Secret Masters --"

"Former Secret Masters," Convoluted Origin Man said.

"Point taken. Your _former_ Secret Masters. Where was I?" By now, the long-winded maniac had paced all the way around to the far side of the controls. No Sense of Direction Man stood up quickly and took a step off the side of the bandwagon . . .

. . . and instantly appeared in front of the control panel. As he reached for the switch clearly labeled "Tractor Beam On/Off," a shadowy figure stepped up from behind and struck him a savage blow on the back of the head, sending the Escherian net.hero to the floor, unconscious.

"Hey, that's Supplyslide!" Metalhead yelled, recognizing the foe who entrapped them all those years ago. He was a few pounds heavier, his hair was thinner, and he'd abandoned the goofy get-up for a stylish gray suit, but he was unmistakably the same man.

"I'm not using that name any more," Supplyslide said, testily.

"So do we call you Professor Bright?"

"I, ah, haven't actually decided on my new nom du guerre yet. You may refer to me as the Supervillain Formerly Known as Supplyslide."

"It's a supervillain team-up," Mainstream Man said.

Wrenchbreaker grinned. "How quaint. Actually, it's a merger. A few years ago, we realized that by pooling our resources we could better leverage our core competencies of mad science --"

"And Evil!" Supplyslide finished.

"You'll never get away with it, you fiends," Radio Star said. "While you've been boasting about your meager conquests and quibbling about your nicknames, I've been analyzing the radio signature of your tractor beam, which should be coming down just . . . about . . . now." True to his word, Radio Star tapped a button on the side of his glove and the Bandwagon plummeted suddenly as the tractor beam was cut off at its source. After the spectral horses regained their bearings, Bandwagon Chick brought them to a quick but graceful landing inside the castle gates.

"All right," Convoluted Origin Man assessed the situation as the assembled heroes piled out of the bandwagon. "Mainstream Man, Bandwagon Chick, and Kid Unique, you're with me. Radio Star, take your team around the left side of that tower and we'll go right."

"Not so fast, heroes," Wrenchbreaker called down. You'll have to get past our evil minions."

"Zombies again, is it?" Rude Boy asked. "Or robots? Ninjas, maybe? Whatever you got, we can take."

"Oh, you're not afraid of zombies, eh? Robots and ninjas are beneath your notice these days? Well, we've got magic-using zombie ninja robots . . . FROM THE FUTURE!" A portcullis opened, releasing a veritable army of shambling, shadowy, metallic figures bathed in an eerie blue light, who charged toward the heroes with an unworldly keening, cranking, groaning, whispering sound, brandishing a daunting arsenal of swords, laser beams, human leg bones and magic spells.

"New plan, gang," Convoluted Origin Man called. "Everybody get into a semicircle in front of the bandwagon. We'll try to hold them off while Bandwagon Chick gets in and goes for help." Before she could protest, he went on. "It's the best plan, Bonnie. Trust me." Meanwhile, the 'Tsk' Force and the New-Wave Heroes formed a human shield in front of Bandwagon Chick as she clambered into the bandwagon. The advancing army, like a nightmarish football team from the 1900s, formed a giant flying wedge and charged.

As each of the heroes prepared to meet this charge as best he or she could, a huge metal golf ball dropped from the sky, rolling over the zombie ninja robots, leaving nothing but a gruesome pile of black robes and spare parts. Cable Bill looked over the wall, with one of the putters from the park gates over his shoulder. "Hi, gang. Mind if I play through?"

* * * * * *

A few hours later, the two teams were back in the LNH Lounge. "Well, Wrenchbreaker and Bright are in custody, we recovered the Deregulation Ray and Contraption Man figured out how to reverse its effects, returning Cable Bill -- William Cable, I mean -- to normal size," Mainstream Man recapped. "I call that a win all around."

"Well, No Sense of Direction Man is still recovering from that head wound," Bandwagon Chick said, absently stirring a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, but Doc said he'll be okay," Kid Unique said, around a mouthful of pizza. "What about you guys?" he asked Radio Star. "Are you hanging around for the 21st Century or what?"

"I don't know . . .," the New-Wave leader replied.

"We should stay," Metalhead said. "It's cool in the future."

"We can't stay," Gothique said quietly. "We don't belong here."

"You got that right," Cowpunk said. "Metal, think about this: Do you want to live in a world that thinks of the '80s the way we think of the '70s?"

"Or where Devo, Dire Straits and Def Leppard are all considered oldies?" Radio Star added.

"I hadn't thought about it like that. Maybe you all are right, but how can we get back."

"Oh that's easy," Contraption Man said. "I can rewire the machine that Wrenchbreaker used to bring those robots back from the future to send you guys into the past."

* * * * * *

Early the next morning, the New-Wave Heroes stood on the LNH lawn, examining Wrenchbreaker's dubious-looking time machine while a smiling Contraption Man tried to reassure them that everything was perfectly safe.

"Thanks again for rescuing us," Radio Star said to Convoluted Origin Man. "Even if you did foul things up 15 years ago." He grinned.

"Hey, I had that situation well in hand. It was you guys who threw a monkey wrench into the works," Convoluted Origin Man said with a laugh. "Anyway, it was the least we could do for fellow superheroes. And thanks for your help this time around."

"Time to go," Contraption Man announced. The New-Wave Heroes piled into the capsule and began strapping themselves in.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Gothique pulled a silver pin from her trenchcoat and pressed it into Mainstream Man's hand. "Give this to Gothic Gorilla when you see him."

"Gothic Gorilla? But -- " He looked at the pin. It was an upside-down ankh with a smiley face in the loop. "Um, I don't think -- I mean, that didn't actually _happen_ in this timeline and, uh, he already had this pin when I saw him." [in the probably-out-of-continuity SAVIORS OF THE NET #3 -- Footnote Girl]

"Well, if you ever see him and he doesn't have it, could you give it to him? I'm sure it'll all work out eventually." She smiled sweetly. "Thanks." She turned and hurried into the capsule, strapping herself in just before Contraption Man started the countdown. As he counted down quickly from ten to zero, the capsule shimmered faintly, and gradually faded from sight.

"Did it work?" Kid Unique asked.

"I think so. Of course we can't be sure until we find some historical reference to the New-Wave Heroes after 1984."

As they walked back into the building, a car started across the street. The driver, a familiar-looking brunette in her mid 30s, put down the newspaper she'd been pretending to read. The sunlight glinted off a metal chain hanging from the rear-view mirror. She grasped the inverted ankh charm at the end of it, and ran her thumb over the loop. She sighed, smiled, and pulled carefully out into traffic.

* * * * * *

Copyright 1999, Steven Howard

Bandwagon Chick created by Sue Clark.

Convoluted Origin Man created by Matt Rossi.

Contraption Man, Doctor Stomper and Mainstream Man created by person or persons unknown.