Of the many ways 7HM writer Armando will be memorialized at his funeral, when flaming arrows are shot into his coffin and his Viking memorial is completed as planned, perhaps then his dearest will comprehend what he understood himself to be since the morning of his first class photograph: larger than life, a tall tale, even. As historically important as he considered every breakfast, as much relish as he took in the theory that future generations would doubt his existence, what was daunting was not so much his desire to die in an explosion and be memorialized in pop radio, but rather the immense amount of effort it took to convince the world of his reality. Tonight was no exception. Inexplicably dressed for war in a brown pinstripe suit with a paisley tie and wingtips, he was surrounded by his twenty-seven bodyguards, the "Brides of Armando", who he was publicly in love with in virtue of their undying loyalty and penchant for costumed battle. For a brief moment, Jesse nearly forgot the stakes of the situation at hand, perplexed not only by the heroic pose which was surely rehearsed before their arrival, but also because they were all on horseback on the roof of Nordstrom Rack. Considering now that Armando and the Brides' ridiculous amount of visual preparation made a peaceful outcome between 7HM and the Youth Commission unlikely, it was now of paramount importance that Jesse utilize his gift of gab to prevent needless violence between these two groups of egotists.

"Look, Armando, I appreciate all of you coming down here to rescue me, and I know it doesn't look like it right now with all these flaming buildings and bloody commandos lying around, but at the moment I really do have things completely under control here," Jesse explained. "I'm sorry you got, y'know, dressed up for nothing, but I'm still the elected Youth Commission president and I'm sure there's a big fat piece of the puzzle we're just not understanding here that I need to figure out first, so please, for me, it's best if you turn back to the Quinjet for now, and if I need help you'll be the first one I'll call, okay?" Armando sat stunned for a moment at the rejection of his rescue. But then, looking back at the Brides, laughing and nodding his head, he replied: "Ha! No, I get it, I get it. It's 'cuz there's girls here, right? And I would say the same thing, y'know, but, Jesse, the Brides...they don't care, y'know? There's different kinds of courage, and you crippled and unafraid of the super-brats...hell, that has me swooning! But, be reasonable, this is hardly a fair fight here, and we have guns."

Upset at being spoken of as if he wasn't there, Magnetic Boy's temper rose again as he interjected: "He already asked you to leave, so get the hell out of here before you get beat on! Don't you get it? Nobody wants you here!" Waving his hand as if to shoo him away, Armando replied: "Listen, between the class of retarded kids I just got to the ER after you collapsed a Togo's on them and the fact that none of you knew how to spell 'revolution' before you spray-painted it all over downtown, the last thing I want to hear right now is the sound of your voice, so do me a favor and-"

"Why don't you shut the %*#^ up!" interrupted Magnetic Boy angrily. "Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? Do you really think any of us are actually taking you any seriously? I read your 7HM profile in TV Guide: you're a smug, apolitical narcissist who, quite frankly, is out of his element here. What the hell do you know about the youth movement, why we have to do this? Face it, you've just got nothing to say." Sensing the Brides' itchy trigger fingers, Armando merely rolled his eyes and remarked: "You know, if I considered you my equal, I'd be pretty pissed off right now, but if it's a challenge you want-"

"Enough!" Jesse boomed. "Armando, please, I'm begging you, just leave now. Please, okay, just go. I'm sorry, but just let me handle this, all right?" Something strange was swelling behind Jesse's eyes, a misdirected sense of sudden anger aimed at nothing in particular. It seemed to have risen with Magnetic Boy's last outburst, and now sat hot as a coal on his mind that he was managing to repress just enough. It didn't make sense; what was he so angry for, when he was just so clear-headed a moment ago? In fact, why were the Youth Commission so indignant, themselves? Never had he known them to be so brash, so reactionary, and despite Magnetic Boy's tendency towards abrasion, it was still inconceivable to him that any of them would have committed the horror of the last twenty-four hours. During their tenure as the senators of youth, surely worse incidents had occurred, none of which had ramifications of this severity.

Armando, at the very least, was willing to abate his moment in the spotlight so that cooler heads might prevail, surprising as it was. "Okay, Jesse, okay. We'll go see if anybody needs any more help," he agreed, engaging the horses' anti-gravity saddles so that they could all trot back together. "I dunno what the hell he's thinking," he muttered to the Brides as they turned around. "What's he gonna do, hold their hands and sing 'Imagine'?" A wave of relief passed over Jesse as they turned to leave, but then something very odd happened: he started to feel cocky, as if he had somehow proven something by causing their departure. It appeared the sensation was not his alone, as several of the younger Commission members were tailing the Brides and taunting them as they left. "Okay, okay, enough of that, get back here," Jesse ordered them. They obediently turned back, spitting some last moment insults in Armando's direction when Earth Lad did the stupidest thing of the night: attempting to show off the extent of his pubescent masculinity to his friends, he slapped one of the Brides quite firmly across the buttocks. Not a second later and in one fluid movement, Armando and the Brides turned their steeds back towards the Youth Commission, with the intent of giving Earth Lad the thrashing of his life Once the youngsters instinctively charged up their powers in open defiance, Armando gave the official word to charge. It was by that randy strike that the untiring fire of the nation's political future with heat vision finally met the steel and lasers of the girlfriend cavalry, colliding in a snap, crackle and pop of exploding hate and death.

The battle exploded over the rooftops of Melbourne. Southern Belle unloaded a charge of Martian buckshot from Big Daddy's Shotgun into Ferro Lass's shiny invulnerable hide, just as China Doll circled around on her stallion and bent her Phoenix Fan's rays to catch Blonde Bombshell, who was unhorsed by a giant fist made of soil and water pipes, courtesy of Earth Lad. Armando's Singing Sword cut him closer and closer towards Magnetic Boy, as Nefertiti Jones guarded his flank, bobbing left and right to avoid Ice Lass's frozen projectiles, returning the favor by squeezing off rocket rounds from her favorite gun, Johnny Magnum.

But as quickly as the Brides had pressed the battle, they had also begun to lose it. Rockin' Robin and Wisegirl both took two of Solar Girl's heat bombs in the chest, while Giant Boy caught a mess of the Brides between his hands, sadistically socking them into his palm over and over again as Calamity Jill's silver bullets bounced harmlessly off of his knuckles. Giant Boy swatted her away and tossed the Brides into the street in front of him like little plastic army men, increasing his size so as to bring his massive foot down and crush them all at once. Whipping his horse's reigns repeatedly to try and get his sword into Giant Boy's tendon in time, Armando screamed into his radio watch: "Dammit, Super Kawaii, where the hell are you?! We're getting our asses handed to us!" "Oh you're SO much fun! Baby doll sweetheart dropping orbit now, lover boy! Banzaiiii!!" crackled a voice over the radio. A shadow suddenly loomed above Giant Boy. He turned his head upwards in time to see its origin: a 5'3 Japanese girl inside a giant killer robot, spearing him through the side of the Bank of America and triumphantly socking his brains out with pre-programmed boxing attacks.

Meanwhile, Jesse was undergoing a battle of his own, albeit internal. As the bloody skirmish raged overhead, emotions as varied as pain, laughter, sorrow and fear overcame him in a sudden rush, each vying for his attention and coinciding with the pace of the battle above. It was all he could do to keep himself from vomiting. His wrist radio suddenly switched on. It was a signal from Heikki. "Everything's turned to crap out here, Heikki, so I'm praying this is good news," Jesse exasperated. "I'm afraid not, Jesse", Heikki explained. "While the weaponry and horses that Armando checked out of the armory and stables are accounted for, one of my medical devices has disappeared."

"I'm sorry, Heikki, but is this really important right now?"

"I should think so. You see, I attach a homing beacon inconspicuously into all of my personal equipment and possessions. It stems from a paranoia I developed after people started borrowing my cassette tapes and never returning them, and it's also how I know that Kai has my Old Navy jacket sitting in his closet, along with other articles of clothing he's secretly been taking from friends and neighbors over the last year."

"...um, okay, we'll handle that last thing later, but-"

"But I'm laying my tracking screen over a satellite map of the city block you're on, and the beacon's transmitting from the second floor of the building behind you. I think I've figured out how this whole thing started. Tell me, Jesse, do you see-"

Heikki's sentence was cut off when a flying Volkswagen Vanagon nearly landed on top of Jesse. Unable to see inside the windows, Jesse crawled closer towards the vehicle, wondering who could possibly be inside, when the sliding door suddenly opened, a cloud of white smoke emerging from within as if a fire had just been extinguished inside, the smell of ignited sinsemilla drifting in the air. A tall dreadlocked figure stepped out slowly, deep in the throes of feverish profundity, muttering over and over to himself until he stood before Jesse and fell silent. His bloodshot eyes hardened into a stare, his lean muscles rippled as he adjusted his gloves. "Wait a minute," Jesse remarked. "You're-"

"Zion's warrior, mon," the stoned soul soldier pronounced contently, gazing up at the battle above. "I an' I herb release de higher vibrations, mek we unblock de channels for Almighty deliver us from evil. True and livin' beast now bless wit' divine kung fu. Stay here, mon." He squatted down slowly, then leapt thirty feet straight up into the battle, leaping and bounding off of bodies and facades, delivering tree-splintering jump kicks and granite-crushing fists at a speed that would boil water, his victims bearing witness to the marvelous glory of his perfect Rasta-fu.

Coughing as she emerged from the van, a beautiful young blonde with old Chuck Taylors, low-rise Levi's and a black bandana tied across her brow gazed up at her companion above, then looked down at Jesse and apologized: "Sorry we're late. Really late, I mean. Masterblaster's making up for lost time, it looks like. Geez, can you walk okay, Jesse?" Before he could explain the circumstances that led to Sub-Zero planting a bomb in his locker and Magnetic Boy exploding his wheelchair, a soft strumming of guitar strings announced the appearance of the last member of the team: the Puerto Rican pachuco with the magical instrument known in the barrio as Johnny Guitar. "Hold on a minute, what are you Working Class Heroes doing here?" Jesse asked. "Who's watching the hoods back home in the Bay Area?" "Oh, the cops can handle them for today. You'd be surprised how rote fighting Nortenos and Big Block gets after a while, so Armando called us 7HM Reserves in as backup. We were supposed to surprise them from behind early on in the fight, but Masterblaster insisted we pick up his, y'know, magic potion, so...there you go. Johnny'll fix you up; I'll go do my thing now," explained the blonde as she rose into the air. Venus in Blue Jeans was her name, and as Johnny Guitar's metaphysical music repaired and strengthened Jesse's broken body, she unleashed a power far less benign, for she was an illusionist, capable of birthing either one's most sublime desires or most harrowing fears to life. It was the latter she unleashed upon the Youth Commission, as angry resurrected role models, voracious phobias, and the naked horror of life exploded from thin air and eviscerated far deeper than any knife or dagger could.

The young men and women screamed at and attacked opponents that were not there, leaving them easy pickings for the opposition. In the midst of a battle fever, Armando finally made his way to Magnetic Boy, kicking and beating him as if he where a man twice his size, shouting triumphantly "no who's got nothing to say?!", tears streaming down the boy's face as he begged him to stop. "Dammit, Armando, that's enough now!" screamed Jesse in fright. But his horror would only increase once he began having illusions of his own, the hidden black ooze of his mind seeping out and taking the shape of the things he feared the most. Watching Jesse's hands cover his head as he repeated "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to" over and over, Johnny Guitar wondered why it was that Venus in Blue Jeans' illusions were affecting Jesse when they had never been directed at him in the first place. He leaned in closer, playing a dandy country riff repeatedly until Jesse's delusions subsided. But somehow, the effect of the music had not only removed Jesse's trauma, but cured the rest of the Youth Commission, as well. Sun Girl immediately snatched Armando from the broken Magnetic Boy's side and squeezed her hands tight around his neck as they flew closer and closer towards the building behind Jesse, her fingers burning his throat like hot water. "You like to beat up on people who are weaker than you, huh? Not so tough now, are ya?" she scolded, crashing along with him through a window. "Just for that, I whipped up something special for you. You feel that warmth deep in your body? I just planted a smart bomb in you. Your temperature'll increase by three degrees a minute; I'm killing you with a fever, jerk."

As she flew back out the window, leaving Armando coughing and lamenting over his ruined suit, his wrist radio suddenly turned on, Heikki's voice inquiring: "Quick, Armando, I have you and Jesse linked up. You're conveniently in the room where my stolen device is transmitting from. Do you see it? It's a spidery-looking thing, black and red." Armando did see the device: it was attached to a shell-shocked young girl's head. Relaying this information back to his teammates and describing the girl's appearance, Jesse exclaimed; "Oh, my God, that's Miss Mental! Magnetic Boy said they weren't on telepathic link because she was exhausted, but what if...Heikki, what does your thingamajig do, quick!" A voice replied over the radio: "I use it to regulate brain chemistry whenever I have to perform emergency brain surgery in the field. It controls the chemicals and allows me to adjust the body's response to pain, fear, and so on, and attached to her..." Jesse suddenly understood: "And attached to her it could serve as a brain override to transmit ideas and emotions into the Youth Commission against their nature, and-and that's what started this whole mess, and that's why Venus's illusions affected me, because I'm on the link, too! We need to get that thing off of her now!" Pleased that Jesse had deduced his same theory, Heikki then turned his attention back to Armando. "The first thing to do is to take your anti-telepathy pills I made you;" he explained. "Now, I'm going to guide you through removing the device, step by step..." "We better hurry," Armando stated, removing his sweat-drenched clothes. "I'll be dead in a few minutes."

The tide of battle was changing in favor of the Commission again, their anger and paranoia now pushed to dangerous levels. The unyielding Magnetic Boy ripped apart Super Kawaii's robot with a gesture, commenting: "Big robots are so played out." Then, turning his attention to Johnny and Jesse, he called down: "So, you're the one that brought them, did you? That whole sitting down to talk thing was just a distraction until you brought your thugs in, wasn't it? Well, now I'm the one that's gonna make you look stupid! Consider this an impeachment, moron!" Multi-Kid was ordered down towards the pair. As he split into twenty different versions of himself, all flying below with injury in mind, Johnny calmly plucked at his guitar strings, playing an intricate melody without pause or break. "Hurry up, do something, they're coming," Jesse panicked. "Shh! Quiet, I need to concentrate...ah-ha," replied Johnny. Just as the Multi-Kids were about to wrap their hands around the boys' throats, a building's base tore free of its foundation and kicked them away. Windows shattered into little black ravens that continued the attack ferociously. The buildings and architecture around them came to life, writhing and twisting as if they were made of flesh and blood, reaching out violently with bricks, girders and lampposts to subdue the Youth Commission, morphing and attacking to the beat of the music. "It was complicated, but I found a beat the city could dance to. It's on our side now, Jesse; it didn't take kindly to being set on fire and having its children bullied."

While the Youth Commission was now dealt another surprising hand in the battle, Armando, smothering under his own body heat and sweating out whatever fluids his body still retained, was carefully unplugging wires from Miss Mental's anatomy, slowly and carefully so as not to hurt her, though the more deliberately he worked, the slower and less ably was he able to continue operating. He looked out the window and saw the Youth Commission's energy wielders attempting to rise above the reach of the city, intending to unleash a catastrophic force wave down upon their assailants that would brutally solve all their problems at once. With Masterblaster poisoned by Animal Boy, Venus in Blue Jeans frostbitten by Ice Lass and the Brides all but shot out of the sky, only Jesse and Johnny were left to fight on, and if Johnny lost his concentration, their lives were forfeit. With seemingly no one left to stand in their way, the surprise on the youngster's faces was genuine when an emerald light suddenly shone down on them from the sky, its luminescence increasing to the blinding point as it quickly drew closer. The energy wielders attempted to push it back, but found themselves suddenly trapped in a green prison cell that fed off the output of their energy. The rest of 7HM had finally arrived from deep space.

"Green Lanterns! Run!" shouted Magnetic Boy in horror. It was 7HM producer Jerome, surgically dismantling the Youth Commission's tactical formations, his ring calculating and countering their individual powers, its abilities only limited by the imagination of Jerome, a visual arts graduate. In one fell swoop, the remainder of the team had been decimated, save its unofficial officers who sent up a flare into the sky. Magnetic Boy, now restrained in an emerald straightjacket laughed and taunted: "Tough as you are, there's no way you're tougher than him." He signaled behind Jerome, from whence came a blur of red and green that knocked him through the H+R Block beside him. Ultimate Kid, the most powerful member of the Youth Commission, had just been called in from his emergency orbit.

He was relentless, battering Jerome over and over again with super-strength, speed, and invulnerability, pummeling blows that would have reduced Jerome to bloody paste had his ring not created a shield around him. "Something's wrong," observed Jesse. "He's only supposed to be able to use one power at a time. But right now, he's using several at once." "I suspect Miss Mental's unlocked whatever barrier it was that was holding him back," theorized Heikki. "Armando, I got cut out for a minute, how's the disassembly coming? Armando?"

But Armando could not respond. His fever already above 120 degrees and rising, he was at the point of collapse, and the surgical device was still embedded along Miss Mental's neck. It had come to the point where he could no longer continue. "I'm sorry...I-I need some water, or..." he gasped, fainting alongside Miss Mental. "Dammit!" shouted Heikki. "Jerome, take that punk out already and get in there!" "He's tougher than he looks," Jerome remarked, "so I can't just...oh, hold on." The ring spoke to him in an incomprehensible gibberish, which he confirmed by nodding his head and pointing it towards the nearest rooftop. Within seconds, Jerome had created a Stargate, which immediately fluctuated as Ultimate Kid swooped down for a killing blow. As the gate opened, a shot rang out and Ultimate Kid clutched his arm, screaming in agony. A military unit emerged from the Stargate, 7HM producer Steiner in the lead with his SG1 Unit armed to the teeth. "Uuuuuh, that was a, uh, an atomic bullet, and there's more'a them where that came from, so unless you wanna, y'know, bleed the electric bonds between your atoms all over the floor, I suggest you stand down. All of you." The nail in the coffin had just been hammered. Jerome rushed towards the building in which Armando and Miss Mental lay, his ring separating woman from machine as quickly as possible, while Armando lay in a pool of his own sweat, his temperature dropping once Jerome had taken out Solar Girl with a giant green mallet." "What the hell?" cried Jerome. "It's been fused to her skeleton somehow. I can't take it out without killing her!" The SG1 medical team kicked down the door, jarring Miss Mental from her daze, and as she thinned her eyes a sharp pain suddenly brought everyone to their knees. Blood dripped from their ears and noses, and she concentrated on one officer in particular, forcing him to unholster his gun against his will. "Please, don't kill me, please" he pleaded. "It's not for you, for me. Close your eyes," she sobbed. The bullet left its chamber and pushed its way through her brainpan. All the aggression ceased. There was only quiet now. The Youth Commission had been defeated.

Hours later Jesse still sat on the broken sidewalk in disbelief as Steiner's SG1 team cleaned up the area with assistance from the Australian government. He had just received word from the United States government that all Youth Commission members were to be held in custody and their Youth Government to be disassembled until further notice. Steiner came to sit beside him. "So, we figure this was an inside job, inside 7HM, I mean. This is...this really bad. Are, uh, are you okay, man"? he asked cautiously. Without looking up, Jesse lamented: "Nothing...I still remember the day we signed our Bill of Youth Rights. "One Nation of Fun", we said. Smash Mouth played our national anthem, and Nickelodeon and MTV paid for our courthouse. Heh It was so great, it was supposed to be--" He suppressed the urge to cry. "Dammit it all!" Steiner allowed Jesse a few minutes of silence, but before he returned to his troop, he gave Jesse an envelope with his name on it. "We found this taped to the remains of your wheelchair with your name scribbled on it." Jesse opened the envelope and pulled out a black and white photograph of himself taken only two hours ago during the firefight. Crosshairs were drawn around his face in red marker and an autograph remarked: "It would have been way too easy. 'Til next time-Sub-Zero."