jchinds

((Season 3, Episode 9))

The opening theme to "Serv'd!" played as a new montage of footage appeared. Notably absent was Hephaestus 1's long-time teammate, Mobius Knight. The scene faded in to the team's office where Hephaestus 1, Larry McGonigle and Agent Munin were clearing out a lot of paperwork.

"Are you going to be okay, Mick?" Larry asked the big blue cyborg.

"I will be," Heph said as he cleaned out Mobius Knight's desk. "Moby's going through some serious problems at the moment, so he's resigned from the job and the show. I'm more than a bit miffed at the way it happened, but what's in the past is in the past. Maybe if things change he can come back, but there's no guarantees. I'll still stick by him, though. A friend's a friend. So, I'll be doing the paperwork for the time being. Ugh. Paperwork sucks."

Larry shook his head. "I have some cheat sheets you can use. Hey, this desk is an Executive Deluxe! Why couldn't I have this when I was here?"

Agent Munin was collecting the few pictures left on the desk. "Yeah, I think the circuit court went crazy with their stimulus money this year." She pulled at one of the photos on the desk. "Heph, why did Shava superglue a framed photo of Burger King onto this desk?"

"Tradition," Heph said. "She did that to his old desk. Man, that photo creeps me out. The eyes follow you all around the room."

There was a knock at the door as the Cobalt Claymore popped his hooded head into the office. "Hey, Heph. You said you needed some help putting some stuff in the SUV?"

"Yeah," Heph said with a hint of sorrow.

"Right," the Cobalt Claymore said. "I'll go get some... help. Or something." With that, the blue-cowled hero disappeared.

"Typical CC, leaves at the first sign of manual labor," Munin said.

"What do you expect? He's got to maintain the air of mystery. He's always been this way."

A short man with a crew cut and glasses appeared a few minutes later. He was wearing your typical office drone gear of dress khakis, a button-down oxford shirt in french blue and tie.

"I was told to report here," the short man said.

"Uh, yeah," Heph said.

"To take care of some paperwork and such. That's my job. Paperwork."

"Riiight," Heph said as he walked over. "Hey, CC," he whispered, "No need to go through the whole mild-mannered office worker stuff. And don't slouch to look shorter, either."

"Who's CC?" the short man said. "And I'm not slouching."

Heph nodded. "Riiiight. Okay, Mister-Not-The-Cobalt-Claymore, we need you to help us with transporting these boxes first."

"Okay," the office worker said. "I'll have to hurry on the forms once we're done moving this stuff out, though. Will that be okay?"

"Yeah, the forms," Heph said. "Can't forget those."

"Without properly-filled forms and reports, this place would crash down around our heads. It'd subvert the cause of justice."

Agent Munin just rolled her eyes. "The things people will do to disguise themselves."

"Disguise?" the office worker asked.

"Never mind," Munin said.

Shortly after the last box of office stuff had been delivered, the "Serv'd!" crew returned to the office. The Cobalt Claymore stood outside their office once more. Well, he more lurked than actually just standing there, but it's tough to lurk in a well-lit hallway.

"You... have a guest," the young swordsman said.

"Did you finish up all the paperwork while we were gone?" Heph asked.

"Paperwork? What paperwork? I ducked out because I didn't have any decent regular attire to wear. I didn't want to get my cowl and cape all dusty from moving boxes."

"Yeah, but you finished the paperwork, though, right?" Heph asked again.

"No, I don't know what you're talking about. Besides, I think you've got a case," the Cobalt Claymore said.

The team entered the room and Heph waved. "Ilse! What brings you here?"

"My cuddly little love wolfums is missing!"

Ilse von Wulfenschtuppen sat in Heph and Agent Munin's office, where the valkyrie-like blonde dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I can't find him anywhere, you two! The one time we both get to schedule some vacation at the same time, and this happens!" Ilse sobbed.

"Ilse, Fang is a good friend of ours, too. We'll find him for you," Agent Munin said. "Besides, he always brings doughnuts."

Heph nodded. "You said that this had something to do with his lycanthropy?"

Ilse nodded. "Normally, he's your run-of-the-mill werewolf cursed by some ancient spellcaster to be short and excessively geeky. But on the three nights of the full moon..."

"Yes?" Heph asked.

Ilse leaned over to Munin and whispered in her ear. Munin's eyes widened and her face turned bright red. Then her jaw dropped and her face turned even redder.

"That's a CURSE?" Munin sputtered.

"For only three nights a month? It definitely is!" Ilse said.

Heph sipped at a cup of coffee. "I shall pretend that none of this has anything to do with Fang, sex, or anything non-crimefighting related."

"Well, Ilse said, there's a problem. I love my Fang the way he is... short, fuzzy, and unbearably cute in his uniform. But now, thanks to reading that cursed manga-"

"Wait. Cursed manga?" Munin asked.

"Yes, he loves the series "Hai! Frilly Girly Happenstance" very much. Well, apparently the girl who sold the latest volume of the manga to him at the comic shop told him that the book was cursed. He laughed it off and read it. Then... he changed!" Ilse said, breaking into tears.

"Changed? Into what?" Heph asked.

"Now instead of being short, fuzzy and adorable, he becomes a tall blonde, beautiful young man with crystal blue eyes, long blonde hair that's just perfect and a slender yet muscular body that just won't quit making you look at it."

"Pics please?" Munin asked. "Erm, after all, I have to know what we're talking about here."

Ilse walked to the computer and put a memory card into the appropriate reader slot. "Here. It's... it's horrible, I tell you!"

The computer screen showed the scope of the horror. A well-sculpted male form that honestly looked nothing like Fang was shown in various poses in all kinds of extremely fashionable clothes. Long blonde hair cascaded down the well-muscled shoulders of this... were-bishonen.

"Is that soft focus?" Heph asked.

"Yes. I-- er, the photographer went with a soft focus there, and the polarizing filter there brings out the true horror of the tone of his rock-solid upper arms," Ilse said. "And what's worse is... I found this in his patrol car!" She held up what looked to be like some kind of long black mesh sleeveless t-shirt.

"Whoa! Dude!" the Cobalt Claymore said as he walked in, a little red-faced under his blue mask. "Where did you find the kunoichi lingerie?"

"What?" Heph, Ilse, and Munin asked.

"Yeah, that's a base layer for ninjas of the female persuasion there. It helps wick sweat away from the body on long missions."

"And just how do you know this, CC?" Heph asked.

"Live among ninjas long enough and you eventually see them in their underwear," the Cobalt Claymore said.

"Wait, I thought ninjas were supposed to be invisible," Heph said.

"They are, when they're at work. Off-duty, they're visible. And you really can't tell who's wh-" the Cobalt Claymore stopped as he viewed the mesh garment a little closer. "Oh, dear. Yep, your Fang has problems. If you see here, it looks like she might have left a phone number or some way to contact her."

"What?"

"Yep. Your boyfriend has ninja groupies, Ilse," the Cobalt Claymore said. "I'm sorry." Then he turned to look at the photos of Fang in his were-bishonen form. The Cobalt Claymore scowled.

"And he's even more handsome than I am," the blue-garbed swordsman grumbled. "This could be problematic."

Ilse began to cry again.

Heph stood up from his office chair. "Right. Well, let's see who's been putting out cursed comics and entrapped our little buddy in a web of curses and stunning man-prettiness," he said. "Ilse, you should go home and rest. We've got it here. CC, go talk to your contacts in the ninja underworld about excessively giddy kunoichi. Munin, you and will- hey, Em?"

Agent Munin, still looking at the photos, kept scrolling slowly up and down on a picture of Fang's cursed self in a pair of tight-fitting MMA trunks, the creative lighting defining his well-sculpted abs even better than normal. "Huh?"

"Investigate now, beefcake later."

"It's not beefcake, it's important evidence-gathering!" Munin said with reddening face.

"Uh-huh," Heph said. "Come on, partner. We've got some sources to check. CC, what's the status on the paperwork?"

"What paperwork?" the Cobalt Claymore asked.

"The stuff you said you'd do after we finished packing the SUV."

"I never said I'd help move boxes. I said I'd go get help is all."

"Hey, it's cool that you disguised yourself and all, but come on, the short little office guy with the graying hair and fake goatee wasn't your best disguise," the big blue cyborg said.

"I didn't disguise myself."

"Fine," Heph said as he walked into the now-bare liaison's office. There were three stacks of forms on the desk, and each form was stamped, signed or initialed in the correct spot. There wasn't even so much as a misaligned stamp.

"I take it back, CC, this isn't your work," Heph said.

"I told you," the Cobalt Claymore replied.

"It's too neat and orderly."

"That's right, it's too- hey, I'm not a slob, Heph," the swordsman said.

"I didn't say you were. This is orderly on a very scary level."

The Cobalt Claymore sniffed the air. "Fresh-cut bamboo," he said. "There's only one explanation. Paperwork ninjas."

"Great. Ninjas, robots, cyborgs, werewolf nerds and the supermodel IT admins who love them, and swordsmen and archers... what's next? Zombie monkeys?"

"You've doomed us all with that, Heph. You know that, right?" Agent Munin asked.

"Investigations first, zombie monkey fighting later. We have to have priorities."

The scene faded out to credits.

On the next "Serv'd!"

Ilse von Wulfenschtuppen sat in Heph and Agent Munin's office, where the valkyrie-like blonde dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I can't find him anywhere, you two! The one time we both get to schedule some vacation at the same time, and this happens!" Ilse sobbed.

"Ilse, Fang is a good friend of ours, too. We'll find him for you," Agent Munin said. "Besides, he always brings doughnuts."

Heph nodded. "You said that this had something to do with his lycanthropy?"

Ilse nodded. "Normally, he's your run-of-the-mill werewolf cursed by some ancient spellcaster to be short and excessively geeky. But on the three nights of the full moon..."

"Yes?" Heph asked.

Ilse leaned over to Munin and whispered in her ear. Munin's eyes widened and her face turned bright red. Then her jaw dropped and her face turned even redder.

"That's a CURSE?" Munin sputtered.

"For only three nights a month? It definitely is!" Ilse said.

Heph sipped at a cup of coffee. "I shall pretend that none of this has anything to do with Fang, sex, or anything non-crimefighting related."

What's happening to Fang? Where is he? Will Hephaestus 1 and company find their diminuitive friend before it's too late? And if he doesn't come back, can we have Ilse's number? I mean RAWR, people! Seriously!

All that and more on the next... "SERV'D!"

SCIENCE!

Also the metamorphosis contact is cool too. And I don't mean that in the Kafkaesque sense, either.

Well, you're certainly not getting the Two-Handed Sword of Love +5.

((Season 3, Episode 8!))

Back at the Rhode Island District Courts building, the crew of "Serv'd!" were going over their latest escapade.

"... and to think that it was Morgoth Carter-Whatley all along!" Agent Munin said. "I should have picked that up immediately with all of the kitsch that was slathered across that show."

Hephaestus 1 turned from his workstation to his newest partner. "It's okay. I didn't make the connection until Robo-T appeared and used his fool-pitying powers to defeat Brick Landers in a dance-off. It's a shame about Brick, though."

Munin checked the report one more time, reading the description of the injuries done to the low-budget film star. "I don't think he'll ever be able to achieve his dream of 'learning kids to read at books without pictures'. That's how he said it, right?"

Mobius Knight walked into his field agents' office from his brand-new luxuriously-appointed Court Liaison's Office. "That poor excuse for an actor will never darken anyone's tv screens ever again. That's what, six, seven people saved from watching bad movies?" Moby noticed a speck of dust on his immaculate burgundy velvet smoking jacket and matching zouave fez. "Jenkins!" he shouted. "Dust me!"

At once a robot in 18th-century livery appeared and removed the offending particles with a gold-inlaid feather duster. "As-you-wish-milord," the robot dutifully replied.

Heph and Munin looked at each other, then back at Moby.

"What?" Moby asked.

"Look at your outfit, Moby," Heph said.

Moby looked down at his new finery. "I found it in the new office. Apparently they've been hiding this new office until it was done and now I have an office of my own! This is the new uniform required of court liaisons according to the memo. I also have a robot named Jenkins who waits on me hand and foot. That's standard equipment for the new office!"

"The stimulus plan is working for someone, I see," Heph said. The big blue cyborg walked over to the new doorway of the office and looked inside, only to be met by a very snooty robot.

"You-may-not-enter-without-his-lordship's-permission," Jenkins said.

"You're joking," Heph said.

"Robots-do-not-joke," Jenkins replied.

"Even Com-Ed-E, the power cable installation robot from the future?" Munin asked.

"Robots-do-not-joke," Jenkins answered again.

"That'll be enough, Heph," Moby said as he walked back to his office. "Now, I must return to my chambers to confirm that today's legal papers are ready for service. That and to be fed grapes by the new ladies-in-waiting."

Heph's mechanical eyebrow raised in surprise after Moby shut the door. Faint sounds of harpsichord music could be heard emanating from the room. Heph walked back over to Agent Munin.

"Em," Heph said, "Did you just see that?"

"Yeah," the blonde-haired archer replied. "I have difficulty believing it, but this is Paragon City, after all."

"I think this is a bigger mystery than lousy musicals," Heph said.

Heph sat back down in the specially-reinforced chair at his desk and began an important post to a COMMA forum about meetings when the building shook from the impact of something large, heavy, and made with dough.

"Well, that's new," Heph said.

The dough roared out a mighty cry of victory.

Glazey had returned.

Munin looked at Heph. "Barry! It can only be Barry!"

Moby burst through the door in his smoking jacket, his face covered with a mud mask. "BARRY! HE'S RUINING MY RELAXING EXFOLIATION! I'LL KILL HIM FOR HIS INSOUCIANCE!" Moby clapped twice and Jenkins brought a gilded case forth. Jenkins then opened the case to reveal a dueling rapier and main-gauche. Taking the weapons in each hand, Moby charged out of the office and into the hallway shouting "EN GARDE, VARLET! EN GARDE!"

"He's going to kill Barry," Munin said.

"And if we don't hurry, we'll miss it," Heph said. "We'll probably also have to save Barry from... whatever is happening."

"When did Moby switch to a rapier?" Munin asked.

A lone power chord wafted its way down the hall as Fang arrived, clad in his trademark leather biker jacket. His long black hair was tied back and his chin was covered with a long beard that he'd braided in the Viking tradition. Slung on his back was a Flying V guitar. "I'll tell you when he switched. It was long ago, in the last days of the Age of Metal. Mobius Knight has led many lives. Many, many lives," the tiny werewolf growled.

Munin just stared.

Heph looked at the lupine trainwreck. "Fang? When did you go into the detective unit?"

"This is what I have always been underneath the geeky clothing, Mick," Fang said. "I am the last of the Werewolf Servants of The Metal. I EAT PASTE MAN, High Priest of the Temple of Kitsch and I are fated to fight this day. And the world will shake, Mick. The world will SHAKE," he said, with another guitar riff punctuating the drama of the situation.

There was an explosion and some apparent swearing as Mobius Knight was cast down from Glazey's heights and through the office window. For a few moments, Moby just lay there, covered in sugar and glass.

"Owww... owwie ow ow! OW!" was pretty much all Moby said. "Barry's unstoppable for some reason! And who's the blonde chick in the metal bikini up there with him?"

"That's the other reason I have hunted Barry. He stole my Hansi and is making her wear the Princess Leia outfit from the barge scene in the Return of the Jedi. A woman of Metal would never wear such a thing without a proper Frazetta-like sword belt and appropriate chain mail," Fang growled.

Moby sat up, noticing Fang. "Ooh! Mini Rob Zombie is here to save the day! Heph! Look! It's Mini Rob Zombie!"

Heph shook his head. "That's Fang, Servant of The Metal. Our little werewolf cop buddy is a closet metalhead."

"Are you sure? Fang's not normally that... leather-clad."

"I am Fang, Son of Morris and Betty Lubawicz! Servant of The Metal! TODAY IS A GOOD DAY TO ROCK!" Fang shouted as he threw the horns. Heph couldn't help but do the same, for such is the Power Of The Metal.

After Moby got up, the four heroes went outside to face Barry's horde of Kitsch-worshippers.

"It is an endless sea of Kitschian scum," Fang growled as he unslung his guitar. "They have tried to stop The Metal from the dawn of mankind, and my people have fought long and hard against them.

A horde of cultists clad in the living skins of Beanie Babies surrounded Glazey, holding aloft the banners that divided the Keroppians from the Holly Hobbiests.

I EAT PASTE MAN cleared his throat, much to the disgust of Hansi. "AHEM! HEY EVERYONE! I AM TOTALLY GONNA BEAT THE METAL ONCE- ONCE AND FOR ALL! BECAUSE I AM WAY ALL-POWERFUL! HA HA HA HA HA!" Rainbows sprouted from flying winged unicorns as they flew past.

"This... Em, Moby, I'm having a problem with this. This is too much even for me!" Heph said as he sat down. "I mean. I've seen weird. We've all seen weird. Em, you were raised around DJ Cozmic, you know from weird! This is just too much," the big blue cyborg said as he curled into a ball.

"No!" Fang shouted. "Heph! Stay with us! The Metal needs you!" Fang played a guitar riff that called lightning from the sky, frying the winged unicorns. "But now... YOU NEED THE METAL!"

With that, the diminutive werewolf leapt into the air towards the top of Glazey. Barry laughed and snorted as he began to chant the Smurfs Marching Song. Tiny blue people attacked Fang as he climbed his way up the giant doughnut. Moby tried to shake Heph back into action. "Heph! Heph! Snap out of it! We need you to use your chainsaw machine gun powers!"

"The horror... the horror..." Heph repeated over and over again.

Fang and Barry clashed, Metal against Nerf in the ultimate battle for the world. Fang raised his mighty guitar and brought it down on Barry's head only to be stopped by a powerful mystic ward.

"HA HA!" Barry said. "MY ULTRA-RARE TALISMAN OF SLOKNAR THE MIGHTY PROTECTS ME FROM YOUR WEAK ATTACKS! NO ONE CAN WITHSTAND ME!"

Heph just rocked back and forth. "Too weird even for me... the horror..."

Munin noticed an odd projection on Heph's back. "What's this?"

"Oh, just some emergency thing Shava built into me when I wasn't looking," Heph said. "She said only to use it in case things get really stupid. I think."

Munin touched the projection, which then expanded into a backpack. Heph stood up, shaking off his horror.

"I forgot the most important thing about situations like this," Heph said. "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro!" The big blue cyborg tapped a panel on his chest, causing the backpack to fold further out into metallic wings. He touched another panel on his chest and a the backpack opened further to reveal a katana of blue-anodized steel and a similar bundle of arrows.

"Be careful, I think those are analogies for man wanting to cut through the weirdness. They're probably really sharp, since they're made from my body and my sarcasm."

Munin took the quiver and checked the arrows. "Wow. These are some vicious-looking broadheads."

Moby took the katana gingerly. "I'm touching bits of you in a swordlike way. This makes me feel uncomfortable." He swung the katana around a few times, noticing that Heph seemed to power up a little further each time.

"This better not be the Katana of Heart or some stupid crap," Moby grumbled.

"Nope. Just the Katana of Awesome," Heph said as he scooped up his two teammates and leapt into the sky to assist Fang. Let's go!"

Winged unicorns fell to the arrows made from Heph's biting commentary as Munin cleared a path to their comrade's desperate battle. Moby swung the Katana of Awesome to deflect the worst attacks that Glazey threw at them.

At last, Heph, Munin and Moby made their way to Barry's perch atop the giant malevolent doughnut. Heph landed and the team spread out to cover their werewolf friend. Heph found another button on one of his forearms.

"Huh, this is new," he said as he pressed the button. Gears whirred and clicked as Heph was suddenly covered in machine guns and menacing chainsaws. "I think I found those machine gun chainsaw powers, Moby!" Heph shouted.

I EAT PASTE MAN looked at the heroes set before him and wiped sweat away from his forehead. "YOU GUYS CAME UP HERE TO LOSE, YOU- YOU KNOW?" He pulled two collectible game cards from a pouch on his belt. "I'M GOING TO SEND THE TOUGHEST MONSTERS AFTER YOU NOW! I SUMMON-"

"Oh, SHUT UP, Barry!" Moby yelled at the large hairy man-child of a villain. "I swear it's like fighting a fat and sweaty Will Farrell when you show up."

"Will Ferrell is a classy actor!" Heph hissed.

"No, no he's not, Mick," Moby said. "He sucks."

"You don't understand his comic stylings!"

"Guys!" Munin said. "Villain!"

"Right," both men said. "Villain!"

"HA! NO ONE CAN DEFEAT THE POWERS OF SLOKNAR THE MIGHTY! THAT- THAT'S WHY I TOOK HIS MAGIC AMULET!" I EAT PASTE MAN shouted.

"Amulet, huh?" all four heroes said.

Heph looked to his teammates. "Time for a Combination Attack!"

Moby looked over at his cyborg partner. "I'm turning into a giant robot, aren't I?"

"No, we just all hit him with our attacks simultaneously to break his barrier," Heph said as his machine gun safeties unlocked and the chainsaws revved up. "Use my Katana of Awesome properly."

"The Katana of Awesome thing still creeps me out."

"Let's go while we're young!" Fang said as his guitar called more lightning from the sky and caused volcanoes to erupt around Glazey. Munin fired off a volley of arrows that struck the barrier, helping channel the lightning into the barrier. Heph fired off a ridiculous amount of machine gun fire into the barrier cracking it even further, and Moby finally shattered it with a truly awesome downward slash.

"We've got him now!" Heph shouted as he and Moby struck simultaneously. They found their attacks stopped by I EAT PASTE MAN'S summoned monsters.

"HA! MY BODYGUARD MONSTERS TOTALLY WORKED!" the flabby master of reality said. "NOW I TOTALLY BEGIN MY REIGN OF TERROR!"

"More like a Reign of Error," Munin said coolly as she fired an arrow into the Amulet of Sloknar The Mighty. The arrow shattered the formerly super-cool amulet, and a ray of light shot into the sky.
"OH BOY," I EAT PASTE MAN said. "NOW- NOW YOU'RE ALL GONNA SEE THE SECRET REASON I DID THIS!" he said sweatily. "THIS IS TOTALLY EMBARRASSING!"

The ray of light shot into the heavens and down from the heavens descended an eagle-winged girl with unkempt brown hair, glasses, a lab coat, and a t-shirt that bore the smiling image of Erik Estrada in a speedo.

Doctor Pantone had arrived.

"Oh, Barry," the mad scientist said. "You tried conquering the world with these little knick-knacks just for me?"

"UH, YEAH," I EAT PASTE MAN said, turning red underneath his beard. "IT'S 'CAUSE I THINK YOU'RE TOTALLY CUTE IN A HOT WAY AND I WANT TO DATE YOU AND SO I DID A BUNCH OF STUFF TO GET YOU TO NOTICE ME AND- AND- AND I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY OTHER THAN... NICE STUFF ABOUT YOU..." he said, trailing off.

Doctor Pantone cleaned her glasses off with a clean spot on her rumpled lab coat. "Oh, that's so sweet! You want to come over and have a war between GI Joe and My Little Pony?"

"WOULD I? I'LL BRING OVER MY ENTIRE COLLECTION OF BATTLE BEASTS, TOO!" I EAT PASTE MAN said joyfully.

"Water puts out fire!" Doctor Pantone said.

Suddenly the last notes of "Dueling Keytars" played and the entire cast of "Vampire Queens of the 80s" took a bow on the stage. Heph, Moby, Terra, Munin, Fang, Hansi, Shava, Back Yard Boom, Larry and Yolanda McGonigle were all sitting in their chairs at the theater, looking dumbfounded.

"Guys... what just happened?" Larry asked.

Yolanda horked out a Raisinette. "Bleah! I hate these things!"

"If I had to hazard a guess," Munin said, "I... I think we all created a shared hallucinatory reality in order to escape the incredibly bad acting and singing of the musical."

"I touched Heph's Katana of Awesome," Moby said dejectedly.

"It could have been worse," Heph said. "It could have been my Two-Handed Sword of Love +5."

The look of horror on Moby's face as he contemplated that ended the show, fading to credits.

((Season 3, Episode 7!))

Agent Munin sat on the couch in Hephaestus 1's apartment, right next to Back Yard Boom. They sat next to Mobius Knight and Terra Skye, who sat next to Larry McGonigle and his wife Yolanda, who sat next to Fang and his fiancee Dr. Hansi von Wulfenschtuppen, who sat next to Shava. This wouldn't be out of the ordinary except for one thing: Everyone was dressed nicely in suits and ties or dresses as appropriate.

"Is he done yet?" Agent Munin asked.

"Not yet," Mobius Knight said. "Things like this take time."

Shava turned on the television set and sighed. After half an hour of a baseball game, a charcoal grey-suited Hephaestus 1 finally walked out of the kitchen, shaking hands with a lawyer and exchanging the kind of pleasantries that signified they'd like to kill each other but were polite enough not to say it in front of others.

"Tell Mr. Jenkins that we're very grateful for the use of his box seats," Heph said with the implied threat of violence.

"I'll be sure to tell him," the lawyer said icily.

"You do that," Heph shot back.

The lawyer and the cyborg shook hands with the "test of strength handshake." The lawyer walked away trying to shake the pain in his hand away. Heph closed the door and did an abrupt about-face.

"All right," Heph said, "thanks to the last-minute negotiations I was able to get us all into the box normally reserved for Chris Jenkins' law firm."

"Then let's go, Mick," Agent Munin said.

"We can go on one condition stipulated by the building management. We are not to express our displeasure through the creative use of violence."

"Awww," Hansi, Shava, and Moby said simultaneously. The trio looked at each other nervously, then found other things to do.

"We can go ask for a refund, we can even boo the actors, but we're not going to be able to throw a chair at them," Heph said. "Apparently heroes and villains are both considered a threat after Citadel's outburst at the premiere of 'Starlight Express.'"

Moby nodded. "At least he got the requisite witty banter in with 'Consider yourself The Little Engine That Won't!' before he attacked them."

"It explains why the theater district in Paragon City is also normally empty, too," Munin said.

"Right," Heph said, "And that's why it's up to us to be the goodwill ambassadors to the Dramatic-American population by being on our best behavior at a..."

"Ah, just say it, Mick, it ain't gonna kill ya!" Back Yard Boom yelled.

"A-- A MUSICAL..."

The familiar ominous opening notes from "Phantom of the Opera" played in the background as the lights dimmed.

"And you guys aren't helping any!" Heph shouted.

Heph's cats, Ozzie and Pudge, looked up at the big blue parent from the electronic keyboard and dimmer switch on the table. Pudge raised the lights back to normal.

"Mrowr?"

"Well, let's get this over with," Heph said as he grabbed the keys to his SUV.

An hour later, the group was seated and watching Paragon City's latest foray into the popular arts.

"Pop and lock, Billy! It's your only hope! Pop and lock!" the jiggling blonde said breathlessly as she attempted to run badly in heels and a tight skirt.

"I said I was going to defeat the Vampire Queen of the Mall with something other than breakdancing, Lurleen!" the tuxedo-clad lummox with the overly-Brylcreemed hair said. "This evil can only be defeated through 1920's ballroom dance! HOT CHA!"

Heph, Agent Munin and Mobius Knight looked over at Larry, each with his or her own look of disbelief.

"I think this is a good move by Brick," Larry said. "He's branching out into musical theater and improving his repertoire!"

Agent Munin stared at Larry from behind her dataglasses. "'Vampire Queens of The 80s' isn't exactly a musical, is it?"

That's when "Dueling Keytars" started blaring through the auditorium. The Vampire Queen of the Mall, her crimped hair surrounding her head like a metrosexual lion's mane, appeared at stage right. She was flanked by two men, Paragon Police Detectives Basinns and Croquette.

Moby leaned over to Fang. "They're really worried we're going to do something, huh?"

Fang whispered back "No, they tried out for the parts."

Moby shook his head. He looked at the stage in shock as the Vampire Queen of the Mall began to speak.

"Like, I am totally going to drink your blood an' stuff, Billy Loxodont!"the Vampire Queen of the Mall said in her stilted Valley accent. "I mean, what you, like, did to Vampire Princess Tiffani was way grody. So I'm, like, getting revenge, y'know?"

Brick Landers, in his role as Billy Loxodont, slid to the other side of the stage on the soles of his shoes. "Sorry, Vampire Queen of the Mall, your reign of shopping evil ends tonight!"

Taco's cover of "Puttin' On The Ritz" blared through the sound system as Billy and Lurleen attempted to Charleston their way across the stage.

"I am so glad I can watch tv on my dataglasses," Back Yard Boom whispered. Agent Munin elbowed him in the ribs to keep him quiet.

"If I'm suffering through this, so are you, Tommy," the blonde archer said.

Yolanda McGonigle had been bored into unconsciousness by the musical to the point where not even loud music was waking her. Then again, she wouldn't be able to hear it over her own open-mouth snoring. Heph and Shava took this opportunity to have a contest to see who could flick more Raisinettes into Yolanda's sonorous maw. Shava led 15 to 12. Even Clem and Earl, Heph's faithful recording team, were trying to get away from the intelligence-reducing spectacle on the stage by reading "The
Collected Plays of Henrik Ibsen (the LOLcat edition)."

Another hour later and the musical finally ended. The audience filed out in an orderly and calm manner, and the group of heroes filed out shortly thereafter.

Everyone seemed to enjoy it.

"It was better than 'Catgirls'," a shaven-headed former radio DJ said.

"I feel great affection towards it," said Azuria.

"Hmm. I feel that multiple viewings are in order so as to enhance my enjoyment of the theatrical production," Montague Castanella said over a latte from the concession stand.

Heph nudged Moby. "Mind control?"

Moby nodded. "This is Paragon City and we got done watching the unwatchable. It's gotta be mind control."

"Looks like we've got a mystery on our hands, gang," Heph said. "Something isn't right."

The show faded to credits.

((Season 3, Episode 6!))

The cameras faded in on Hephaestus 1 and Sergeant-Major Keenan as they stood at the edge of a large and still slightly-warm crater. The RCMP officers and cadets were forming a security perimeter to keep gawkers away. Neither was prepared for what they were seeing.

A large banana-shaped alien and his family were camped out in the crater next to a rock-encrusted spaceship, with a signal flare and a red hazard triangle behind the apparently stricken vehicle.

One banana lounged in a hammock while the others scurried around it.

"Hey, Mavis!" the banana said, "looks like the cops are here!"

Another banana popped its head out of the spaceship "Well, tell them that we need to file an accident report, Herman! That Taranthim Freighter did not have the right of way!"

Sergeant-Major Keenan looked at the aliens and then at Heph. "I'm not entirely sure what to do here. I don't know if this is an accident scene or a first contact."

"It's pretty much both," Heph said.

"Oh. Well, I'm not authorized for first contact, we usually have someone out of Ottawa's Department H handle these things."

Heph rubbed his metal temples with his hands. "Well, we need to render assistance, so I'll handle it."

Sergeant-Major Keenan shook his head. "I can't let you do that, Sergeant O'Flannagan. That could cause an international incident."

"International incident?" Mavis the alien banana asked incredulously as she climbed up the crater. "Your lack of designated travel lanes in high planetary orbit is the international incident here!"

"Ma'am, please go back to your uh, spacecraft," Sergeant-Major Keenan said. "I'm not authorized to speak to you on behalf of Her Majesty's government, but please rest assured we'll have the correct people to welcome you to Earth."

Mavis looked at her husband. "Herman! Did you land us in England?"

"Canada, dear, that's why he's polite and formal!" Herman said from the confines of his hammock.

"I don't see any Tim Hortons here."

"The nearest Tim Hortons is approximately 42 kilometers directly south of our location on Rochdale Boulevard in Regina," Heph and Sergeant-Major Keenan said in unison.

Mavis the alien banana blinked. "So you're both police officers, then?"

"I'm retired, ma'am," Heph said. "I don't claim to speak for the Canadian government, but I can at least welcome you to Earth."

"Sergeant O'Flannagan, I'll have to loadge a protest with the American consulate," the veteran Mountie said. "You're creating an international incident."

"I'm sure you've got a Good Samaritan law or two," Heph said as he opened up a notepad and started writing. "So, ma'am, could you describe the accident?"

Six hours later, a team of alien-contact specialists from Ottawa were wrapping up their initial investigation. A bemused looking government agent looked at the notes taken by Heph.

"Alien bananas, an unmarked spacelane exit and an order for a quarter-tonne of Timbits? Do these things always happen around you?"

"Normally it's not quite as extreme, but then again I'm usually in a city where space oddities aren't all that odd," Heph said as he tucked his notepad back into his jacket pocket. "So, how much trouble am I going to get into for violating your federal first-contact laws?"

"Hmm. You'll probably have to buy another quarter-tonne of Timbits for the Academy," the agent said. "Anyway, thanks for getting the initial statement for Department H. As always, you'll need to keep this in strictest confidence."

"Uhm," Heph said, looking at the cameras, "That might be a little tough."

The agent finally noticed that he was being filmed and recorded by Clem and Earl. "Oh, that's gonna be a problem."

"Guys?" Heph said. "Switch to travel slides!"

The screen switched to a series of travel slides as "Lovin' Every Minute Of It" by Loverboy plays in the background.

Slide 1: Hephaestus 1 getting autographs from the members of The Guess Who

Slide 2: Heph's induction into the Possum Lodge, the Right Honorable Red Green presiding

Slide 3: Heph touring the National Comedian Breeding Vats and Cloning Facility

Slide 4: Heph and the guys from Manitoba's greatest television export "The Router Workshop" using a 3/8" rabbet to put the finishing touches on a router-carved copy of Michelangelo's "David."

Slide 5: Comparing the label on Labatt's blue to Heph's arm. Result: Heph's arm is bluer.

Slide 6: Heph inspecting the troops of the RCMP Musical Ride. Oddly enough, he's taking this seriously.

Slide 7: Heph visiting the spot where Gordon Lightfoot and Leonard Cohen teamed up to fight Nemesis' Evil Robot Versions of Rush.

Slide 8: Heph with two dozen double-doubles from Tim Hortons balanced on his outstretched arms.

The screen faded to credits.

((Season 3, Episode 5!))

Heph's SUV was missing from its regular spot outside the Rhode Island District Courts building in Paragon City as the camera faded in from the opening credits. Inside the courts building, Mobius Knight and Agent Munin were engaging in some kind of baseball-type game where the blonde archer would fire her arrows at a target down the hall and Mobius Knight would attempt to split them lengthwise with his katana. Patrolman Fang had stopped by to deliver some papers and was doing running commentary for the game.

"One ball, one strike, no outs," Fang deadpanned from behind the swordsman's back as Agent Munin readied another arrow. "This game is brought to you by firm of Boredom and Slow Work Day... swing and a miss!"

Mobius Knight looked over at Fang and glared at him. "Don't you have a real job or something?"

The little werewolf looked over at the ersatz batter. "Wait, when did you get a real job?"

Agent Munin snickered at that just enough to botch the release, sending her arrow between Mobius Knight and Fang. Fang ducked as the arrow shattered a nearby water cooler, sending a pair of office gossips scrambling for cover.

"Just a bit outside," Fang said in his best Bob Uecker impression.

"Fang!" Munin yelled. "I'm trying to concentrate here."

"And I really don't want to explain why there's an arrow lodged in my head when I get home tonight, so let's make sure that Em can concentrate and I don't wind up with an arrow lodged in my head," Moby added.

"Sorry, guys," Fang said. "Have you guys heard from Heph lately?"

"He seems to be enjoying the business trip to Canada," Moby said. "I still have no idea why they'd want him to give a lecture. He doesn't even have a bachelor's degree!"

Fang scratched his nose. "They give degrees for comedy?" he asked.

Another arrow sailed past Fang's nose, sending a potted fern to an untimely end.

"Fang!" Munin said. "Shut up or I'll use you for the target."

"Yeesh," Fang said.

The scene cut to a large lecture hall where Hephaestus 1 was addressing the latest troops of RCMP cadets. Projected behind him was a huge Powerpoint banner proclaiming "One-Liners, Psychological Warfare, and Crime Prevention by Individual Officers." The big blue cyborg was wearing what looked like a brand new charcoal grey suit, white dress shirt and a pale blue tie that matched his old Chicago PD uniform shirts. A tiny version of his old Sergeant's badge gleamed on the lapel. He held onto the podium much like an alderman sweating out a press conference. The cadets were full of proper bearing, listening intently. Heph thought for a moment that he might be in a room of Nemesis automatons except for the heartbeats and the few cadets trying to stifle a grin or a snicker here and there.

"That's one of the many roles of humor in the job, really," Heph concluded, "you'll use it most of the time to build morale among fellow officers or to build trust with your fellow citizens, but when wielded with a little skill you can also use it to confuse criminals and and possibly even defuse a dangerous situation. Are there any last questions prior to falling out for the next class?"

One cadet raised his hand and stood up when Heph pointed to him. "I was wondering how this would work for mimes, sir," the cadet said.

Heph's "WTF?" eyebrow deployed to a couple of stifled giggles and a few coughing fits trying to prevent laughter. "Cadet," Heph asked, "Are you trying for extra credit here?"

"Yes, sir," the cadet said, "and I'm also interested if I could use mime as part of my law enforcement career."

"Mime? I wasn't aware there was a great call for mimes in Canada," Heph said.

"Well, sir, I'm from Vancouver. You know how it is," the cadet said as if that explained everything.

"If you consider the amount of physical skill needed to make a great number of subtle movements plus the timing needed to properly describe your action, then yes, you might be able to combine the two for greater effect. Take some initiative and be willing to occasionally go over the head of your audience. If it's a criminal, that might give you enough time to react to nab him with no fuss and no violence. If you can do that without having to fight, you'll ensure that the people whom you protect stay calm and orderly. Those are often mighty big 'ifs' though, so get a little practice in every now and then. Is that clearer, cadet?"

The cadet nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said as he sat down.

Heph looked around for other raised hands. "No other questions? Well, then, my closing remarks."

The big blue cyborg raised his hand to his mouth as if he was clearing his throat, then pulled out an index card from his coat pocket. The cameras he used for eyes whirred as he focused on the card. He looked back to the class, then back down the card.

"Heh. You said 'Regina'."

Even the troop commanders groaned at that one.

Heph put the card back in his pocket. "What, you expected Hillaire Belloc?" He stepped away from the podium. "Thank you for being an attentive class and I hope you've been able to add something new to your law enforcement arsenals."

The troop commanders called the class to attention and had them march out as Heph and a few of the instructors discussed the session.

"Well, Sergeant-Major Keenan," Heph said, "I hope the cadets got something useful out of that. I'm kind of surprised that you'd ask someone without a degree for assistance on this."

"We get help from the First Nations residents on cultural issues, and their leaders aren't always degreed, either," the instructor nodded. "Sometimes you have to ask a carpenter or mason how to build a house instead of asking a civil engineer with a Ph.D. That's why we brought you here."

Heph nodded. "They also seemed to keep their professional bearing, too. Was that also part of the reason for bringing me in?"

"I'd be lying if I said no, Sergeant O'Flannagan," Segeant-Major Keenan said. "We get a kick out of your exploits sometimes, so we thought it might be a good idea to see how well they can maintain proper professional bearing while listening to how you deliver your lecture. I'd also be lying if I said that 'Regina' comment at the end was completely expected. That caught me off-guard."

"You have to ride the edge of good taste sometimes to find humor," Heph said, "but you also have to err on the side of caution. This was not one of those times for me. I wanted to catch them off-guard for just a second."

Heph gathered up his lecture materials in a briefcase and walked out the door along with the instructors. As they were making small talk on the way towards the dining facility, Heph looked up to see a meteor hurtling towards the ground.

"Uh, this looks bad," Heph said nonchalantly.

"Oh my," Sergeant-Major Keenan said.

The meteor flew over the academy and smashed into the ground dozens of kilometers north of their location. Heph looked back at his chaperone. "Well, being a weirdness magnet, I should have expected this. Mind if I accompany your investigators if they should need some metahuman assistance for damage control?"

The old Mountie nodded. "I hope you brought some good working clothes. We might need your help."

Heph ran to the academy's guest quarters as the screen faded to credits.

((Season 3, Episode 4!))

The "Serv'd!" theme played over the usual action montage and credits, leading into a scene of the intrepid Small Claims Response Agents, Metahuman Division. Agent Munin and Hephaestus 1 were waiting outside of Mobius Knight's office, taking bets on when he'd show up. They sat on opposite sides of the door, mostly staring at the ceiling or playing video games on their handheld computers.

Heph looked over at his new field partner. "Hey, Em, I'll wager... two doughnuts and a large black coffee on this. He'll be here twenty minutes early."

Agent Munin nodded. "Fine. One multigrain bagel with hazelnut cream cheese and a Red Beast says he's going to be here fifteen minutes early due to the traffic jam in Skyway."

Heph leaned back into the institutional-grade vinyl of the couch and looked up. "Babbage?"

Agent Munin nodded, even though she didn't take her eyes off of her game of Happy Pony Rainbow Squad: The Glitter City Sanction. "Yep. Someone managed to stop the Clockwork King twice today, so apparently this is a double-strength Babbage."

"So Clocky's big critters are powered by his frustration?" Heph asked.

"Yep," Agent Munin said.

Heph checked his internal clock. "If only we could harness his frustration and use it to power something useful, like the city. Paragon City would be safe."

"Yeah, but then we'd be having to run into Terra Volta to save the Clockwork King from being raided by the Sky Raiders, Freakshow and Rikti," Agent Munin said.

"Heh. That sounds vaguely dirty now that I think about it."

Agent Munin looked over at her big blue senior partner. "EW."

The door to Mobius Knight's office opened up and the team's court liaison popped his head out the door. "That was disgusting, Heph. Never say that again."

The two field agents looked at Moby. "How long have you been here?" Heph asked.

"I get in at seven a.m., so I can get the day's docket information and service calls set up. That way you guys can waltz in at eight without a care," Moby grumbled.

"Yes, and that's why you get paid the big bucks, Moby," Heph said. "You could have always declined the job, you know."

"Shut it, Heph. I've got a headache, you're making it worse, and I'm still waiting on my apprentice's homework," Moby said.

"Look, Grouchy Von Grouchenstein," Agent Munin said, "you chose to homeschool her, and you chose to let Heph monitor your progress. Don't snap at him for troubles."

Moby's eyes narrowed. "Grouchy Von Grouchenstein?"

"I kind of like it," Heph said. "It's better than what I was going to call you."

"Get in here," the monochromatic swordsman said to his crew. "I've got your first call for this morning. You'll be heading to Providence Place."

Providence Place was an exclusive neighborhood, if neighborhoods could be described as "mansions with lots of empty land between them." It was also the neighborhood where the mansion of one Justin and Shalice Sinclair, better known to the world as Manticore and Sister Psyche. The grounds were a mess as Heph drove his SUV down the smooth asphalt path of the driveway. Heph's antennae twitched.

"This place smells good. I'm getting faint scents of doughnuts, fried chicken, and... ooh! Bacon!" the big blue cyborg said with childlike glee. "I thought that fabulously wealthy people only ate things like organic twigs and handmade rocks."

Agent Munin's eyebrow raised over the right lens of her dataglasses. "No, but they probably don't deep fry everything. It just smells that way at the moment."

The two heroes stopped in front of the Sinclair Mansion. The hulls of destroyed Rikti drones and Assault Armors lay scattered across the grounds, all apparently covered in a thin film of fryer grease. Heph trudged up the stairs to the door and rang the doorbell.

"These are pretty nice digs," Heph said. "I love how there's a clear view of pretty much everything right to the bay. It reminds me of the lakefront homes in Evanston and Wilmette back home."

"Pretty nice mansions, huh?" Agent Munin asked.

Heph nodded. "This one is about a century or so older, but I think the ones on Lake Michigan have aged far better. I'm biased, though."

After a few minutes, a tuxedo-clad butler opened the door. "Good morning, I'm afraid that Master and Mistress Sinclair are busy at the moment. We seem to have an most unwanted guest in the mansion."

The butler's statement was punctuated by the sight of an empty whiskey bottle being thrown at a younger hero. It shattered on the wall spraying glass everywhere. The butler sighed.

"Ever since Master Sinclair's incident, he's gone... well, rural," the butler said.

"That would explain the Bentley up on blocks near the fountain, then," Agent Munin said.

"It would also explain the need to come here first. I think we'll get service done on both complainant and respondent here, Em," Heph said.

Manticore ran down the hallway in a red flannel shirt and realtree camouflage pants, with a gimme cap from Red Man covering his head. An arrow was already nocked on the bowstring as he searched for the hero was fleeing for his life. He noticed Heph and walked to the door.

"You ain't revenuers are ya?" Manticore said. "'Cause I'm fixin' to string one up once I catch him!"

Heph looked at his partner. "You've already gone through your bowhunting phase, right?"

Agent Munin shook her head. "Honestly, Heph, we archers aren't all like this."

"I know," the cyborg said.

The butler shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid he's been like this since he was a child. Instead of throwing a tantrum when he didn't get his way, he, well..."

"Took on the most outrageous stereotypes of redneck culture?" Heph asked.

"Yes. It's the curse of cultured living, I suppose."

Manticore looked at the two heroes. "What do you want?"

Heph pulled a sheaf of papers from his cargo pocket. "Here. This is your half of the legal summons to small claims court over the ruined bed sheets. We have the other half for Cholestro when we get to his place."

"What? I don't wanna go to no court! You can't make me!" Manticore said.

"Well, if you don't show up, then you really can't sue for damages, can you?" Agent Munin said.

Manticore thought for a moment. "I guess ya can't. I don't wanna go to no court, still."

After a few moments, Sister Psyche walked to the door in a halter top, cutoffs, flip flops and a cigarette hanging from her lips. "Oh, it's the law."

Heph looked over at the butler. "Wait, it happens to her, too?"

The butler nodded. "She tried reading his mind and got sucked into the tantrum herself."

"I see. That's not good."

"I ain't goin' to no court!" Manticore piped up again.

"You ain't takin' my man to court!" Sister Psyche said. "I love him! Don't take him to court!"

Heph just grumbled a little when he noticed Manticore leering at his teammate.

"How you doin', miss?" Manticore said to Agent Munin with a vaguely creepy smile. "Say, that's one of them Matthews 3-X compound bows, ain't it?"

"Uh, no, it's custom-built," Agent Munin said.

Manticore's smiling was stopped by a slap on the back of the head by Sister Psyche. "Oh no, you're not hittin' on no floozy from in town!"

Agent Munin twitched. "Excuse me, did you just call me a floozy?"

"Yeah. I saw what he was thinkin' and you ain't takin' him from me, neither!" Sister Psyche yelled.

"You read minds, huh?" Agent Munin asked.

"Yeah, that's what I do."

"Then read his mind!" Agent Munin said as she pointed a thumb at Hephaestus 1. "I bet you can't."

Sister Psyche narrowed her eyes at Heph. Then her eyes widened as she actually processed what she was reading in her mind. She broke mental contact with Heph and shook her head as if to clear it.
"Oh, that was disgusting-- wait, why am I dressed like this? Pilkington?" Sister Psyche asked the butler. "What am I doing here like this?"

"Oh! How splendid!" the butler said with a smile. "Mistress Sinclair, you've returned to normalcy!"

"But, what caused all of this?" Sister Psyche asked.

A young man in a bright orange and blue costume with a large C on his chest poked his head up from a nearby shrubbery. "I think that I might be of some help."

Heph looked over at the young man. "Wait, are you Cholestro, the Fried-Foods Summoner?"

Cholestro nodded. "Yes. I was patrolling the area when I noticed the first Rikti assault portals open up near this mansion. I put in a call to the other heroes, but I had to slow the Rikti down until reinforcements arrived. So, I summoned my three most powerful foods: fried chicken, batter-dipped bacon and doughnuts.

Heph's mechanical eyebrow shot up. "Did you say batter-dipped bacon?"

"Yes. I use a beer batter for it. It's very powerful against the Rikti."

Heph ran over to Cholestro and hugged him. "I love you. You've managed to make bacon even more wonderful! You're like the King of Bacon now!"

A very disturbed Cholestro slid out from Heph's hug. "Uh, thanks. Anyway, the side effect of all the summoning is the grease. And it seems that some of it drifted in the wind and landed on the bed sheets that had just been hung out to dry in the back yard of the Sinclair mansion."

Sister Psyche nodded. "Manticore demands that the bed sheets must be dried on a clothesline. He says they smell better that way."

"And the grease got on them and he threw a fit?" Heph said.

"I was trying to calm him down with my psychic powers and I guess I got caught up in the insanity."

By this point, Manticore had already walked to the kitchen and started playing Kid Rock's latest hits on the stereo. The butler's face twitched a little.

"He plays this incessantly," the butler said.

"Well, he still needs to show up to court," Heph said as he handed the papers to Sister Psyche and Cholestro. "The hearing date is at the top of the summons." He then turned to Cholestro.

"So, about this beer batter..."

(Season 3, Episode 3!)

The theme to "Serv'd!" played as the opening credits rolled.

Tonight, the crew of "Serv'd!" was taking a well-deserved break at Pocket D. Hephaestus 1 was socializing with the crowd at DJ Logos' show, bantering and carrying on.

"Seriously, guys, that's how it was done back home," Heph said, "the Governor's symbol of office was the traditional Dead Muskrat which was stapled to his head in place of hair. This is why all Illinois governors have had bad hair for years. It's really a dead muskrat."

"That's disgusting," Agent Munin said. "So they go through all that just to wear a dead muskrat on their heads?"

"Yep," Heph said. "That's exactly why people run for Governor in Illinois. Dead muskrats and bribes for contracts."

"That explains a lot about the state," Earl said.

Heph turned around as he heard some footsteps behind him. "Ah, my beer's h- oh, you're not the one bringing me a beer. Who are you?"

"I'm a registered process server with the government of the Etoile Isles. You, Hephaestus 1, are being served with a summons to appear before a magistrate in a lawsuit brought by one Virgil Duray."

Heph's "WTF?" eyebrow popped up. "Excuse me?"

"Colonel Duray, leader of the Sky Raiders, is suing for copyright infringement."

"Look, I only compared his troops to dorky-helmeted bees once!" Heph said. "Besides, I haven't done anything even vaguely related to Sky Raiders!"

"Ah, see, that's where you're wrong. Your Raiderhosen Tactical Lederhosen line of clothes is far too close to his line of clothes, the Raider Tactical Clothing Collection," the process server said.

"You've got to be kidding me," Heph said.

Agent Munin just blinked a few times. "Heph?"

"Yes, Em?"

"Is he serious?"

"I think so, but I'll give him the same respect that I get when I've had to serve papers on Rogue Isles-based criminals."

"So you're going to point and laugh at him?" the young archer asked.

"Yes, Em, that's what I'm going to do."

The process server scowled. "Look, I'm just trying to do my job here, guys. Just let me do this and go home, all right?"

"No, I can't do that," Heph said. "I haven't pointed and laughed at you trying to steal my thunder."

The process server's shoulders slumped. "I'm just trying to pay my way through college with this gig, man, leave me alone."

"Ah, college. There's your problem!" Heph said. "See, I managed to make a good career as a cop and turn it into a career as a private detective, process server, and later, reality show star. I did all of this without a degree. I'm just a high school graduate. I never went to college. And yet, here I am with the fame and the money. Maybe you should go into a trade or something. What's your name, kid?"

"SiegeWing," the process server said. "College is just a stepping stone to what I ultimately want to do, though."

"So you have dreams of success, huh?" Heph asked.

"Yeah, who doesn't want to be successful?"

"Good point. You have to understand that dreams are great, but you have to work to make them real. If you want to achieve your dreams, you have to treat them like a rainbow: you must catch it and put it in your pocket!"

Everyone stopped and stared at the large blue cyborg.

"That's right! If you can touch the rainbow of success, that's one thing. But you have to catch it and make it yours to find success!" Heph said, nodding.

SiegeWing and Agent Munin shared a confused look.

"Otherwise," Heph said, pointing at the process server, "you'll be nothing but a dirty little RAINBOW TOUCHER. You've got to grab that rainbow! Don't just touch it!"

"Uh," the young man said, confused and a little weirded out.

"Do you want success? Yeah, you do!" Heph said. "All right, say it with me, then: I AM NOT A RAINBOW TOUCHER."

"I don't want to say that, though," the process server said.

"Say it! Say that you won't touch rainbows! You'll grab them and stick them in your pockets!"

"Uh, I won't touch rainbows?"

"Come on! Say it loud! I WON'T BE A DIRTY RAINBOW TOUCHER!"

The process server sighed. "Fine. I won't be a dirty rainbow toucher!"

Heph gave the young man a thumbs-up. "That's the positive attitude that'll get you farther in life than any college management course! Catch that rainbow!"

"Can I have your autograph?" the process server said.

"Sure, kid," Heph said as he signed the papers with his hero name.

"Thanks! Now here's your copy and instructions on where to show up for court. Failure to do so will result in a warrant being put out for your arrest." With that the young man left.

"Ah, he's a good kid," Heph said. "Easily excitable and such."

"Heph, you just signed that summons," Agent Munin said. "He got you to sign it."

Heph shrugged. "Yeah, so he did. Oh well, I guess Hephaestus 1 will have to risk being arrested."

"Isn't that you, though?" Agent Munin asked.

"Yeah, but seeing as how all us mechanical types look alike, they'll probably go after that Zeus Titan who has been passing himself off as me. Especially when you consider that I signed it in the Titan's handwriting."

Agent Munin smiled. "That's just mean, Heph."

"Hey, the guy deserves it for trying to be me." Heph's beer finally arrived. "Ah, here we go. Just what the doctor ordered."

The screen faded out as the heroes dance and partied into the night.

*The "Serv'd!" theme song plays, the montage rolls on, and the credits go to black and fade back into the picture.*

Hephaestus 1 pulled the SUV into its reserved parking space and noticed the empty space next to him. He nudged his field partner, Agent Munin, and pointed to the spot with his thumb.

"Look at that, Emmy," he said. "Moby has Larry's old parking spot, but he never drives to work."

"Does he have a car?" Emmy asked.

Heph shrugged. "I don't really know. Maybe he doesn't."

The duo got out of Heph's SUV and walked into the district courts building. Both planters that flanked the doors were slashed in half, as was the cluster of newspaper boxes.

Heph's mechanical eyebrow popped up. "He couldn't have done this!"

Emmy looked around. "It's his second week, right? He shouldn't be that angry already."

Heph looked over the reception desk at the security guard. The old man was currently cowering behind the marble. "Uh, excuse me, Marty. Did Mobius Knight come this way?"

Marty's hand rose from behind the desk and pointed towards Moby's new office.

"Is he mad?" Emmy asked.

"Yes," a meek reply came from behind the desk.

"Really mad?" Heph asked.

"Yep."

"About what?" Heph asked again.

"You'll find out," Marty said.

"Hey, boss?" Emmy asked. "We'd better get to the office before he goes nuts again."

Heph nodded and the two heroes quickly moved to the office. The layout was pretty much the same as Larry's: the desk faced the door and anything that Moby saw on his computer wasn't viewable by visitors. The pictures of Larry's family were gone and replaced with pictures of Mobius Knight and his fiancée, the lovely and talented Terra Skye, pictures of Moby and his dog Mr. Snugglesworth, and a picture of the Burger King that Shava gave to him as an officewarming present. Despite the obvious signs of attempts to remove it, the frame stayed firmly attached to the desk. Heph shuddered as he walked in.

"That picture still creeps me out," Heph said. "I don't even have to look at it and I can feel the King's eyes burning through my soul."

"Why did she give Moby such an awful present?" Emmy asked.

"She likes to see people squirm," a voice filled with restrained fury said behind them.

Heph and Emmy turned around to see their legal liaison, Mobius Knight standing behind them with a katana in one hand and a rolled-up newspaper in the other.

"Hey, Moby," Heph said. "Bad night?"

"No. Just a bad morning. Did you see Paragon Entertainment News' headline today?" the swordsman asked.

Heph shook his head. "I can't say that I have."

With a flourish, Moby unfurled the paper edition of Paragon City's entertainment industry news. The headline was stark: "BRICK LANDERS LANDS LEAD IN 'THE CHRISTMAS NINJA'" and the sub-headline was worse. "Landers to play local ninja hero Mobius Knight." The picture of Brick Landers was one of the actor in his Mobius Knight costume, if Moby was known to wear lemon yellow and lime green pants, a red-and-blue striped t-shirt and rainbow suspenders, topped off with a rainbow-colored fright wig.

"That's not Moby, that's more like Uncle Coz," Emmy said.

"I know. Who told him that I was a ninja?" Moby yelled through his mask. "I'm sick of everyone making that mistake!"

"He's probably seen the show, saw what you looked like, put two and two together... and come up with seventeen," Heph said.

Moby ran his fingers through is hair. "I don't look anything like him. How can Brick Landers be this stupid?"

Neither Heph nor Emmy answered this question. Brick Landers was the zenith of stupidity. Even asking a rhetorical question about Brick's stupidity made you lose a few IQ points for a few seconds. Moby let the wave of stupidity and nausea pass, then he sat at his desk and began to fill out paperwork.

"I'm giving you two an assignment. You're delivering a cease-and-desist order to this guy, you're delivering a shutdown order to Paragon Film Partners for... I don't know... crimes against humanity or something," Moby growled. "Just make them halt all production on this movie!"

Heph shook his head. "Moby, for one you just can't write this stuff yourself, you need a judge-"

"Judge Mannis signed them already. He's dealt with their crap too many times," Moby interrupted.

"Huh," Emmy said. "What, did he consider the picture in the paper to be probable cause?"

"Yeah, for once he and I agreed on something. Now as for you two, get over to the Paragon Film Partners studio immediately! This has to get stopped today!"

"Right, right," Heph said. "We're on it, boss man."

Emmy scooped up the papers and dropped them into a messenger bag. "I'll deliver them. Besides, I need the practice."

"Uh, okay," Heph said. "It doesn't take a lot to say 'Here are your papers, please sign here' though."

"All right, fine," the blonde-haired archer said to her mentor. "I just want to drop off the papers for once!"

"Sure," the cyborg said. "I'll let you."

As the two walked to Heph's waiting SUV, Moby threw open his window and leaned out. "Avenge me! AVENGE ME!" he shouted to the duo.

The palm of Heph's metal hand found his forehead again. He realized that he shouldn't have told Moby about the Red Dawn marathon on the 80s Movies Channel. He and Emmy got into his vehicle and drove to the Paragon Film Partners Studio.

The studio wasn't too far away from the District Courts building. It was an older complex of red brick buildings near the south end of Steel Canyon. The chain-link fences that marked off the property line laid on the bare ground, witnesses of the many Outcasts who regularly used the complex as their dumping ground for unconscious Trolls and stolen goods. One would think that putting your enemies near your loot would be a bad idea, but the Outcasts weren't noted for intelligence. Who else but the Outcasts would try to break into bus stops and park benches these days? The studio's crowning feature was an old soot-stained building from its heyday, when Paragon Film Partners could film a sequel to "The Towering Inferno" and no one tried to stop them. The budget ran out after three floors, so the directors demanded very tight shots to make the building look more imposing. Then again, salmon pink isn't exactly a threatening color. Eventually, the company was sold to a mysterious cabal of investors, one of whom seemed to want Brick Landers to star in every movie. After a few years of making Troma look like Merchant-Ivory, Paragon Film Partners shuttered the studio for most of the year. And now, this window of opportunity to make another movie opened once more.

Despite this upswell of activity, Heph and Emmy drove up to an abandoned studio. The security gate was locked down and no guard sat in the booth. The duo got out of the SUV and peered into the studio lot.

"They must have finished filming," Emmy said. "There's no one here-- wait! Heph! Look!" she shouted, pointing towards two men huddled together as if in discussion.

Heph looked over. The men both wore broad-brimmed brown hats and nondescript camel-colored trenchcoats with the collars turned up, so he couldn't make out their faces very well. They noticed Emmy pointing at them, and the two men began running away from the heroes. Within seconds, Emmy's bow was out and a volley of glue arrows arced into the sky. The arrows found their marks and splattered all over the two men. Heph ran to the men, his eye-lasers gleaming and at the ready.

"All right you two, it's time to talk," he said. The two men looked at each other and seemed to pop out of existence as they teleported away from the trap, their trenchcoats still stuck in the glue.

"I hate when they teleport away," Heph said dejectedly.

"We'll find them boss," Emmy said as she made the quick jog to the glue patch. "We can search their coats when the glue hardens. Or we can ask Myme."

"Myme?" Heph asked. "Why would we ask Myme?"

"Well, he's been standing there watching the two guys talk."

"How do you know?" Heph asked.

"He was mocking them in a carefree but non-verbal manner, making a commentary with his actions," Emmy said. "How could you not see him?"

"I don't know, maybe he did the "stuck in a box" routine and it was somehow opaque to me, or something," Heph said. "Hey, Myme, come here a minute."

The Myme sauntered merrily to the two heroes and with a jaunty push of his beret, he greeted the heroes with a flourishing wave.

^o^

"We need your help. Can you come with us? We want to find out who those two men were," Heph said.

The Myme acted as if he was pondering something, then nodded his head.

^_^

In one of the interview rooms at the District Court building, Heph and Emmy sat with Myme, trying to get an explanation from him. Heph slapped his hand on the desk.

"We haven't gotten anywhere with this, even if we've only been here for five minutes. Was Brick Landers one of the two men talking to each other in the studio lot when we showed up?"

The Myme nodded and gave Heph a thumbs-up.

^-^

"Look, Myme, you're our star witness for this case."

^_^

"You heard what Brick Landers was planning to do, and we need you to tell us," Emmy said.

^^'

"Right... well, let's figure something out," Heph said.

-_-

"No, napping won't help."

>_<

"Oh, sorry, you were thinking. My bad."

^_~

"Riiiiight," the large cyborg said. "So, we know it was Brick. Was the other guy, Larry, my old liaison from this show?"

The Myme shrugged.

Heph showed him a picture of Larry from Larry's retirement party. "Did he look like this?"

The Myme shook his head.

"Did he look like Larry wearing a trenchcoat?" Heph asked.

The Myme shook his head again. Everyone settled in. This was going to take some time.

Three hours later, the trio of heroes was still in the interview room.

"Okay... bigger than a breadbox?" Heph asked. The Myme nodded.

^_^

"Hero or villain?" Emmy asked.

@_@

"He's a hypnotist?"

The Myme nodded.

"Is he... an evil hypnotist?"

The Myme put his pinky to the corner of his mouth.

What evil hypnotists do we know?

"Quite a few actually, like Brainman, Braindo the Thought Mutilator, Cerebral..."

The Myme rolled his eyes melodramatically.

"Yeah, it's going to be a long list."

The Myme shook his head again and rolled his eyes melodramatically.

"Yes, really, really long."

Again, Myme shook his head.

>_< !

Heph and Emmy sat there, stunned. They had seen the rarest of things, a mime being so dramatic that it was like he'd shouted at them.

"Fine, we're all ears," Emmy said.

^^'

"Oops," the young archer said.

The Myme held up one finger.

"First word," Heph and Emmy said simultaneously.

The Myme nodded.

T_T

"Weeping," Heph said. "Weeping Sores Man!"

The Myme shook his head.

T_T

"Crying?" Emmy asked.

The Myme tugged his ear.

"Sounds like crying," the girl said. "Drying... trying... uh, brying?"

The Myme tapped his nose and pointed at Emmy.

"But that's not a word. Brying, brying," she said, then paused. "Wait, is it a proper name? It's Brian!"

The Myme gave a thumbs up.

"We have evil hypnotists who use their proper names?" Heph asked.

"Named Brian, hmm?" Emmy pulled out a pair of dataglasses similar to her father's. "Wait a minute. The only one here is listed as Brian Frieze, the Misspellcaster!"

"Oh, him," Heph said, trying to sound like he knew about whom Emmy was talking. His internal link to the police database brought up the Misspellcaster's profile. He learned mind-control spells, including one that was supposed to induce a feeling like a "brain freeze" as if you'd just sucked down an entire Giant Slurpee in three seconds. Fortunately, he often misspelled his words of power and regularly misspoke them as well.

The "Serv'd!" crew and The Myme ran to the SUV to deliver the necessary summons to the Misspellcaster.

In a small apartment near the Pandora's Box store in Skyway City, the Misspellcaster was having a bad day. He meant to say "Lock the door" when he cast his spell to secure the apartment, but said "Dock the Lore." The next thing he knew, his door was still open and half of his magic library was gone.

"Oh, I hate that," the Misspellcaster said, "Spam doonerisms....GAH! Damn spoonerisms!"

Heph poked his head through the unlucky mage's doorway. "Anyone home? Like a guy named Brian Frieze?"

"Uh, mat's thee, ah, dammit! That's me!" the Misspellcaster said. "What can I do for you?"

Hephaestus 1 stepped inside. "We'd like to talk about Brick Landers with you."

"Lick Branders? Er, Brick Landers? Never heard of him."

"We've got a witness saying you were talking to him on the Paragon Film Partners studio lot today."

"Your writness is wong, uh, witness is wrong," the mage said.

"You've also got a large blob of bright orange glue from my glue arrow stuck on your pantleg," Emmy said.

"Oh," the Misspellcaster said as he looked down. He looked back up and gestured at them. "BRAN FREEZE! Oh, dammit! BRIAN FREEZE! Gah!"

Brian found himself encased in ice up to his neck.

"We're going to have a long talk with you, Brian," Hephaestus 1 said.

Ninety minutes later, the team was back in Mobius Knight's office. If Moby smiled often, this was one of those times.

"So, this Misspellcaster guy was hired to help Brick Landers get a good picture of my costume?"

"Yep, but he cast a spell to find a 'nonja' costume instead of a 'ninja' costume."

Mobius Knight nodded as he typed. "Well, DJ Cozmic's costumes are about an non-ninja as you can get. I'm still mad that Brick Landers tried taking my name, though."

"Hey, we got 'The Christmas Ninja' production stopped before it got going, but that's the price of fame, Moby. You get famous enough and people will try to pass themselves off as you."

"At least you're unique enough to not have to worry about that, Heph," Moby said.

"You've got a very recognizable face," Emmy added.

"True. And I was voted 'Sexiest Male Full-Conversion Cyborg With a Television Show' by the readers of 'Very Specific People' Magazine," Heph said, pretending to polish his nails on his jacket. "Let's head out. I think it's time for a crazy dance party at Pocket D."

As the "Serv'd!" team headed out of the District Courts building, they heard a rather uncommon cry for them.

"Oh my God! It's Hephaestus 1! He's sooo hot! I want his autograph!" one woman said.

"He's dreamy," a starstruck girl said.

Heph looked around. "Me? Well, uh, thanks..."

The team then noticed all the women swarming a Zeus Class Titan with the name "Hephaestus 1" stenciled on the side.

"Ladies, Ladies, the there's only so much Hephalicious goodness to go around!" the Titan said. "One at a time, please!"

Moby pointed and laughed at Heph as the show faded to credits.

*The "Serv'd!" opening theme plays. The opening montage takes us through some of the cooler moments of the past two seasons.*

Larry McGonigle's office was covered in streamers, confetti, and all kinds of decorations. A banner stating "Congratulations, Larry!" hung over it all. A large cake carrier sat on the desk. Clem and Earl looked at each other as they'd been sitting here waiting to film Larry's arrival for the past twenty minutes.

"I wish they'd hurry up," Earl said. "I have to go."

"Go where?" Clem asked.

"No, I have to go," Earl said, his leg bouncing up and down.

"Are you nervous?" Clem asked. "You look nervous."

"I. Gotta. GO," Earl said through clenched teeth.

"Don't worry, you've got plenty of time," Clem said. "Just relax and think of a calm blue ocean, the waves coming in... and going back out... the rushing noise of the gentle tides. Or imagine a tropical waterfall where the water just trickles down in a happy way. Like a Bob Ross painting. Just trickle, trickle, trickle."

"You're not helping, Clem. I'm going to need to sprint to get to the bathroom in time now."

"Oh, going to the bathroom! Well, uh, don't think about the trickling of the waterfall or the rushing noise of the tides. Definitely try not to think about flowing water," Clem said helpfully.

The door rattled as Larry opened up the door to his office, with Hephaestus 1, Mobius Knight and Fang in tow.

"SURPRISE!" the television show's crew shouted as Larry hit the lights. Larry jumped back, startled.

Heph clapped his judicial liaison on the shoulder. "Happy Retirement, Lar!"

"Oh- Oh- Wow. Wow, guys," Larry stuttered, unable to find his words.

Moby looked around. "We even got your favorite cake from Atlas Avenue Bakeries," he said as he went over to reveal the german chocolate cake under the carrier lid.

"You went to the place where I held my first job as a kid?" Larry asked. "You guys really are thorough in your research."

"Heph was just going to get doughnuts and call it good," Fang said. "I told him no."

Heph shrugged. "Hey, you can put a 'Happy Retirement' decoration on it just as easily as a regular cake."

"Spoken like a true cheapskate cop!" Larry said with a laugh. "You guys have made my last couple of years here hell. But it's been the most fun hell anyone could ask for."

"Well, dealing with the courts is going to be Moby's job now. He's taking over your liaison gig," Heph said.

Mobius Knight nodded. "Two hundred grand a year means Moby can put up with stupid lawyers and judges."

"Without stabbing anyone?" Larry asked.

Moby's eyes darkened. "Dammit. I should have held out for three hundred thousand."

Larry sat down at his desk. "So, does this mean that you're going back on the show, Fang?"

"No, Uncle Larry, my job with the police department means I can't work on the show anymore. Remember all the paperwork I brought to last week's dinner?"

"Yeah, it looked like you were developing leads and contacts. A good cop always has a network."

Heph grabbed a knife and began to slice the cake. "Actually, Lar, he was helping Moby and me vet potential recruits for Moby's old job as my full-time field partner."

"So, you'll be running solo for a bit?" Larry asked.

"Nope. We already have our candidate," Heph said. The big blue cyborg popped his head out through the doorway. "Em, can you come in here, please?"

A young blonde in fighting leathers walked in, a compound bow slung over her shoulder. "Guys," Heph said, "this is Agent Munin. She asked really nicely for the job. Besides, she's a fan."

"Hi, guys! I'm Agent Munin. Most people call me Em or Emmy. "Agent Munin" is more a formality than a name I use," Em said.

Larry nodded. "I was about to ask that. You do realize that this job can get a little weird, right? So, uh, Agent Munin, what are your qualifications in dealing with weirdness?"

"Two words: DJ Cozmic." Em said.

Heph, Fang and Moby all nodded knowingly.

"He's got a sentient afro," Fang said.

"His sense of color coordination makes blind people yell at him for hurting their eyes."

"He also sprays orange butt-glitter from his tail. Yes, he has a tail," Heph said. "I think it also might be sentient like his afro."

Fang nodded. "He's also got this thing for Perrey & Kingsley, Masters of the Moog synthesizer. That music seems to follow him wherever he goes."

"I thought I was hallucinating when I heard that, guess I was wrong," Moby said.

Heph brought up the first slice of cake. "So, who wants cake?"

After everyone had gotten their fill of the party atmosphere, Larry called the team meeting to order.

"All right, guys, here's the case. We'll be delivering a summons to one Doctor Pantone over in the Buckingham Estates neighborhood. The neighbors are complaining about falling real estate prices. Mind you these are old-money homes as well, so they're not likely to be affected by the current financial mess."

"Okay. So what's this guy doing? Trying to be the next Morgoth Carter-Whately?" Heph asked.

"No, apparently Doctor Pantone has an unabashed love of... kitsch. Unfortunately for his neighbors he proclaims his love of kitsch very very loudly."

"Describe 'loudly,' Larry," Moby said.

"Well, he took a Queen Anne-style mansion and turned it from its dignified weatherbeaten stone color to... a deep salmon pink, it says here," Larry said. "Also, one of the smokestacks has a giant version of a Kit-Kat clock on it."

"Okay, so the guy's a lousy decorator. Big deal," Heph said.

"The giant clock is lit with bright yellow neon and has a 180-decibel klaxon to tell people when the hour is struck."

"And his neighbors asked him to tone it down?" Em said.

"He refused and shortly thereafter covered the existing roof in a layer of mylar shingles. Brightly polished. When the light from the giant clock hits the roof, it scatters like a giant disco ball."

"So, he's deliberately annoying the people around him?" Heph asked.

Larry nodded. "He says it's his property and no one can stop him."

"Have any of the local heroes stopped by?" Moby asked.

"Well, no. Apparently the eyes on the giant clock are so creepy that they turn around and leave," Larry said.

Moby stood up and checked his gear. "Let's get going, team."

Larry held out a hand. "Easy there, Moby. You're coming with me today to meet the district court staff. You're going to be working with a lot of them so now is the time to make good connections."

"But paperwork sucks," Moby protested.

"Two hundred thousand per year," Larry countered.

"Paperwork sucks less now," Moby continued, "is what I meant to say. Exactly what I meant."

Em shook her head. "Well, Heph, it looks like it's you and me."

"Let's go then," Heph said.

"Shotgun!" Em called. Heph drew his holdout shotgun from a concealed holster in his trousers. Being a large cyborg meant having the ability to conceal long guns as if they were pistols.

"Got one, thanks," Heph said.

Em massaged her temples. "Right."

As the two left, Moby and Larry gave each other a knowing look.

"Five bucks says she tries to put an arrow through his forehead by five PM," Larry said.

"I'll... take the bet!" Moby said with enthusiasm.

As Heph and his new partner walked to the SUV, "Less Talk More Rokk" began to play. Heph stopped and looked around, waiting for an attack.

"What the hell is that?"

"You apparently picked up a soundtrack. Remember when you got sprayed with that glitter from Uncle Coz?"

"Yes. The butt-glitter from his tail. I was most unhappy," Heph said icily.

"That may be causing this. The effects are random," Em said.

"I put my body through an ultrasonic cleaner to get rid of all of it. I'm cleaner than Pat Boone in a semiconductor factory!" Heph said over the synthesizers.

Em shrugged. "The glitter is disturbing and random. It happens."

"Man, this soundtrack better have Journey on it," Heph grumbled.

Sadly for Heph, the soundtrack did not have any Journey on it. Instead he and the crew were subject to "Telefon Rin Rin Rin" and "Caramelldansen" and other such songs. As they exited the SUV, Em shot a look over to Heph.

"What?" Heph asked.

"You took your hands off the wheel while we were merging into another lane."

"Well, I had to do the dance. The song demanded it."

"We were merging at 90 miles per hour. Not. Shiny."

"But it was the Caramelldansen!" Heph explained. "It's a requirement! Besides, I was in control. I was driving with my knees."

"Did you do this to Moby all the time?" Em asked.

"Yes?" Heph offered.

"That can't be good."

"You said you could handle the weird," Heph said.

"The weird? Yes. The stupidly dangerous, though?" Em said with a pause, "I can handle that, too. It's part of the hero business."

As they stepped onto the stone portico with "Bless this Mess" inscribed into the stone, the duo checked the clock again. Five minutes until the klaxon sounded. Heph rang the doorbell.

"This is the second house i've been to that's had "Fly Me to the Moon" as its doorbell."

"Is that significant?" Em asked.

"The first time, it made no sense. This time, it makes sense. This Doctor Pantone knows her obscure sitcom references."

A chipper-looking blonde woman in a paint-spattered lab coat and t-shirt proclaiming her love of the series 'Sheriff Lobo' answered the door.

"Oh, hi! You must be the new decorators!" she said. "Sorry about the last two, but their minds broke with color patterns that Man Was Not Meant To Know." She gestured to them. "Come on in. I'm Doctor Pantone."

The team stepped into the foyer and the slammed shut behind them, followed by a hissing noise as the acoustic seals reintegrated themselves.

"Well, let's take a look at the kitchen, first," Doctor Pantone said.

The crew walked into what could easily be called an abomination in Harvest Gold and Avocado. The Formica countertop had a set of macrame potholders in some of the most muted bright colors out there. The space near the ceiling normally left for crown moulding was wallpapered in a red-orange-yellow accent band in a pattern that could only be called 'hyperpsychedelicalico.' Em slid on a pair of dataglasses.

"Oh, I'm afraid those won't help you here," Doctor Pantone said. This house is wired to keep you from seeing pleasant colors unless I so wish it. Ooh! Look at the time! Let's check the CCTV cameras at the door!"

She pressed a faux-chrome button built into the countertop. A camera raised up as a package deliveryman gingerly stepped onto the portico and was about to ring the bell. The lights dimmed and the deliveryman collapsed on the ground holding his ears. There was only a muffled whine inside as the klaxon set off.

"Yes! The klaxon is right on time!" Doctor Pantone said. "Take that, neighborhood homeowner's association!"

Em slammed her hand on the countertop. "You think this is just a precious little game to play in a fight with your neighbors? That driver will probably need artificial eardrums now! What kind of lunatic are you?"

"It's my property, so it's my rules. And who's to say my rules aren't the right ones? Besides, they're a bunch of boring rich people. Screw 'em!"

"Well, these rich people are rather ticked off that you're ruining something they waned to keep nice, like their quiet neighborhood and their undeafened children. You do realize that sound carries, right?"

"They're only humans. It's no big deal," Doctor Pantone said with a smile. "They're totally replaceable with my army of fashionable bioclones! Besides, this is all being done on my property."

"Okay, see, that's not cool," Heph said. "People don't do that if they expect to be left alone to build a bioclone army in peace. It's also wrecking the value of their homes, which in turn lowers the amount of taxes that can be levied to-"

Doctor Pantone stepped back. "You're not decorators, are you?"

Heph slapped a stack of subpoenas on the counter. "No. We're with the Rhode Island District Courts. And lady, you're going to learn that there's a fine legal line between property rights and being a dick to all and sundry."

"I don't think so," Doctor Pantone said as she hit another button.

"Oh, I think- Em, where did the floor go?" Heph asked as the floor dropped out from under them.

Em thought quickly and fired off a grappling hook arrow into the ceiling. Sadly it only penetrated the false polystyrene ceiling panel and fell back through.

"Ooh! The run-down family room look!" Doctor Pantone said with glee. "I like it!"

The two heroes and their crew found themselves sliding down a large chute and into a hideously early-80s room. The top of the walls had the words "welcome to the doom tube" painted in a hideously-round lowercase font, with bright-colored stripes painted at non-Euclidean angles abounding.

"Good grief! It's like this place was painted by the hideous love child of Jackson Pollock, Peter Max and DJ Cozmic!" Heph shouted.

Em shot Heph another look.

"Sorry," the cyborg mumbled.

The room disassembled itself and reconfigured into a large arena. Doctor Pantone walked out on a raised hovering platform and looked down at Heph and Em.

"Sorry, you two, but this is my property. You just can't come barging in here. So there's going to be some consequences to your actions. Behold the power of STEVE!"

With a flourish, the crazed scientist gestured to another wall. It split apart and out walked a gray-skinned humanoid in a red track suit. Its features were vaguely human but almost featureless.

"Huh. Like that Play-Doh guy from the one Star Trek show," Heph said.

"Odo," Em corrected him.

"Ha! You're a Trekkie," Heph shot back.

Em sighed. "So, Doctor Pantone, care to tell us triumphally about this Steve guy over here?"

"Well, I'm not much to follow tradition. But I will tell you that Steve is the culmination of my two loves: mad science and vintage television shows!" Doctor Pantone said. "And now, you'll face Steve and when he beats you with his superior technology, you'll both have to help me paint the living room and finish the guest bath!"

"You've got to be kidding me, Doc. This is all that you've got?" Heph asked. "Can you get any sillier? Seriously!"

Doctor Pantone scowled behind her glasses. "You'd best do as I say, Hephaestus 1, or my friend will be very unhappy."

"Is that so? What's he gonna do? Stand there and look dumb?" Heph said as he locked his gaze with the mad scientist.

"No, I think you'll change your mind once you've seen the power of this FULLY FUNCTIONAL ACTION TV STAR! Lo, here walks STEVE THE RETROID!"

"FOOL-PITYING POWERS... ONLINE!" Steve the Retroid boomed. Within a few seconds, Steve transformed into a large metal version of Mr. T.

Heph slapped a giant metal hand to his forehead. "Vae mihi..."

"ROBO-T HAS NO TIME FOR JIBBA-JABBA, FOOL." Steve said. "ROBO-T PITIES THE FOOL THAT TRIES TO STOP DOCTOR PANTONE'S PLAN FROM COMING TOGETHER."

Thinking fast, Em readied an electromagnetic pulse arrow. "Heph? You know ancient television better than I do. Hop to, big guy!"

"Ancient? It's not ancient!" Heph said.

"JIBBA-JABBA," Steve said as he readied his Fool-Pitying Death Ray cannon. "IS NOT ALLOWED, NOT EVEN FROM THAT FOOL MURDOCK."

"Yeah?" Heph asked. "Well, in order to beat us, you'll have to get on the next plane to Ecuador!"

"ROBO-T BOARDS NO AIRCRAFT, FOOL!" the Retroid said. "PREPARE TO BE PITIED INTO OBLIVION."

"Wait! There's the plane to Ecuador right now! Murdock is totally taking your van, too!" Heph said as he pointed behind the Retroid.

"MURDOCK CAN WAIT, YOUR DESTRUCTION IS MORE IMPORTANT."

"He's got a nice cold glass of milk... but he might spill it!" Heph said, desperately trying to buy time.

"THAT FOOL MURDOCK HAD BEST NOT MESS WITH ROBO-T'S MILK," the Retroid said as he turned momentarily.

That quick turn gave Em the chance to fire the EMP Arrow directly into Steve the Retroid's neck. The Retroid twitched and sputtered as it leapt into the air with a slow-motion pinging noise.

"SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IMMINENT. REQUIRES REBUILDING. STRONGER. FASTER. BETTER. Estimated repair costs... six mill..." the Retroid said as it dropped to the floor.

Doctor Pantone looked at the two heroes. "You... You got your EMP Arrow in my Retroid!"

"Yeah, well, you put your Retroid in the way of my EMP Arrow!" Em said. "Now they're two great technologies that... uh," she trailed off.

"Taste great together?" Heph offered.

Both Doctor Pantone and Em shot the cyborg a look.

"What?" Heph asked. "Seriously, what?"

Doctor Pantone leapt from the raised platform to the ground to start the Retroid's repair process. "This is gonna take hours. Way to go, guys! I just wanted to have a little fun is all."

Heph took the stack of subpoenas and filled Doctor Pantone's lab coat pockets. "There. You've got your papers. Stop being such a dick to everyone, all right? Show up at the court or else we'll have to come back out here, fight through your entire bioclone army and cause you trouble, hero-style. Got it?"

Doctor Pantone looked down and grumbled. "Fine," she said as she kicked at an imaginary rock. "I'm gonna get revenge, though."

"Take a number behind Morgoth Carter-Whately, the hippie guy who leads the Warriors, some Tsoo henchmen, Maestro, I EAT PASTE MAN, Arbiter Sands, the Clown on Fire from the Red Beast INTENSITY commercials and a whole bunch of other people," Em rattled off.

"I totally forgot about Maestro," Heph said. "You really are a fan, Em!"

"Well, yeah. Why do you think I took the job?" the young archer said.

"I think this new partnership is going to work out very well, Em," Heph said.

"Shiny!"

Meanwhile, Larry McGonigle sat at his desk while Mobius Knight went through a bunch of work-related nonsense. He looked around to see if anyone was outside his office. Seeing no one, he shut the blinds and put a pair of earbuds in his ears and clicked Play on his iPod. Soon he was dancing like a monkey having a brain seizure.

"Won'tchoo takemeto... FUNKYTOWN!!! Awantchoo takemeto... FUNKYTOWN!!!" Larry sang as he danced.

Hephaestus 1, Agent Munin, Mobius Knight and the recording crew of Clem and Earl stared in horror as they opened the door. The scene cut to black as "Funkytown" played during the closing credits of the show.

(Also, WOOT for Kitten America! Now you get the 10% discount at IHOP.)

((Because Hephaestus 1 is a kid at heart, he loves doing live appearances at schools and making public service announcements for kids. Here's one of his earlier ones.))

Hephaestus 1 appeared on screen with three schoolchildren. "Hi, I'm Hephaestus 1. Kids, do you know what to do if you're ever approached by a stranger? Jack, Tanisha and Damian from Paragon Heights Elementary School all know what to do, right kids?"

"Yeah!" the children shouted.

Heph gave the kids a thumbs-up gesture. "Okay! Let's show everyone out there," he said while pointing to the camera, "what to do!"

The scene shifted to a playground, where Jack, Tanisha and Damian were playing on a jungle gym. Heph walked up to them in a bright orange t-shirt with "STRANGER" printed on it in big black letters.

"Hi, there, young man," Hephaestus 1 said to Jack. "I found a lost puppy. Can you help me find its owner?"

"I'll go tell my teacher!" Jack said as he ran off-screen.

Heph snapped his big metal fingers. "Drat! The old "Get a Teacher" ploy! A classic!" He walked over to Tanisha.

"Excuse me, little girl, you've won an all-expenses-paid trip to a candy factory! Just get in my car and we'll go!"

Tanisha looked up at the big blue cyborg. "I better ask my mom first!" she said as she left.

Heph shook his fist. "Bah! Parents! The bane of strangers everywhere!" This time he strode confidently over to Damian, who sat there, looking a little ill.

"You there!" Heph said, pointing dramatically at the little boy, "You look like a perfect candidate for my army of genetically-engineered cyborg children! Mua-ha-ha! I laugh that way because I am not just a stranger but also a supervillain!"

Damian twitched a little and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. "I sUmmON thE dEMoN-GrizZlY GURVOHL THE JUDGMENT!" he shouted before doubling over and vomiting a puddle of indigo-colored liquid hate onto the concrete.

"Uh-oh, we've got a sick kid, here, guys. Looks like he had a lot of, uh, is that grape soda?" Heph said as he tried to check on the boy. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning and a twenty-foot tall grizzly bear wreathed in flame and carrying a huge sword appeared from the puddle.

"I HUNGER FOR THE FLESH OF THE GUILTY!" Gurvohl the Judgment roared.

"By Sergeant Belker's sweaty stocking cap!" Heph said as he looked at rather-peeved demon bear.

"FLESH!" the demon-bear roared again.

Heph and the camera crew ran away as fast as they could.

"So remember, kids," Heph said as he ran, "if you're approached by a stranger, go find your teacher or your mom and dad or, uh, summon a demon bear if you're so inclined!"

Gurvohl roared again with the sound of a thousand damned souls being torn from their bodies. Lightning snaked down from the skies and struck a dozen Hellions simultaneously.

"And, uh, strangers," Heph said, "don't prey on children because they're likely to send guardian beasts after you!"

As Heph kept running, the "The More You Know" star appeared over his head on-screen.

((Season 2, Episode 15!))

*The "Serv'd!" Theme plays. Now available as both a floor wax AND a dessert topping!*

Hephaestus 1, Mobius Knight and their faithful recording crew sat with Fang, Larry McGonigle, the Cobalt Claymore and Nick "Pipewrench" SanFilippo at the High Park KC Hall's bar. Nick stood behind the bar as usual, since he became the official bartender about a year ago. Heph and the others sat around a large table with some kind of display hidden under a sheet.

"The issue at hand is that fans have been asking for something other than just the ride-along program," Heph began, "and I think I may have the solution. Behold!" he shouted as he pulled the sheet off of the display.

The display was a decently-designed model of one of Atlas Park's lesser-used green spaces which was fenced off and filled with a variety of tents, a bandshell-type stage and what looked to be a small pile of cars.

The Cobalt Claymore looked at the model. "Either someone just put together a Warhammer 40K terrain set for you, Heph, or you're planning a flea market and junkyard."

Moby shook his head. "No, he's going to have a beer festival. The pile of cars is clearly for the DUI parking."

Heph sighed. "Fine. Be that way. You won't get a cut of the profits when this works out."

Moby shrugged. "That's fine if it means you not telling me about your stupid ideas."

"It's not a stupid idea if it makes money and gets us good press," Heph grumbled. "Besides, I've gotten hundreds of fan letters, from hundreds of different people no less, who have wanted a fuller experience than that provided by our ride-along program."

Fang's ears perked up. "Fuller experience? That sounds like a bad idea. I mean, the ride-along is already pretty messed-up."

Larry nodded. "Yes it is. It's also a liability nightmare if you let the ride-along crowd help you with your job."

"I took that into consideration already which is why I came up with this question. How do we give the fans what they want without exposing them to dangerous villains?"

"By watching your show," the Cobalt Claymore said. "That's pretty obvious."

"There's no 360-degree interactivity, though, so I thought that if we can't take them to the weirdness, let's bring a little weirdness to them. Thus, my idea: The Hephaestus 1 Experience Fan Campstravaganza!" Heph said, gesturing to his model.

The group just looked at their big blue cyborg friend like he was a big blue moron.

Heph continued. "Each of the tents will help fans live vicariously through our adventures through virtual reality and uh, real reality simulations of highlights from the show! There's also going to be games and prizes and stuff, too."

"Highlights from the show? Like what? Being attacked by a giant doughnut? Enforcing leash laws on demons? Helping sentient androids kick drug habits? Touring the inside of a middle-aged man's colon?" Moby asked.

"So, the Larry McGonigle Memorial Tunnel of Terror is a bad idea, then?" Heph said as Larry paled.

"I'm not dead!" the court liaison said.

"No, but your dignity is after that episode," Heph said.

Larry sat and fumed for a bit over that.

"Look, guys, I like our fans. They like the show. Let's give them what they want!"

"So, what's the pile of cars, then?" Moby asked.

"Oh, that's one of the games. Car Catcher. I throw cars at them like what happened to me on my first day as a solo superhero. Northdier and Southsider threw full-sized cars at me in an attempt to get away from me. I had to catch them and set them on the ground safely. Two drunken baseball fans with superstrength can be a handful."

"You throw the cars," Fang said, "and they catch them. You're going to kill people with that!"

"Nah," Heph said. "They'll be wearing powered armor that will allow them to catch the cars while on a full sprint. The only problem, though, is getting the cars loaded on the catapult. Oh, and the whole deactivation of the suit if they try to leave the fenced-in area thing, too. That could also be bad."

The Cobalt Claymore shook his head. "Okay, that could be pretty cool, Heph, but there are a lot of problems with the whole thing. The insurance alone would bankrupt you. You'd be launching cars from a catapult. How is that not a deal breaker?"

"Well, I was also going to have the winner of of the Society of American Catgirls 'Paragon Idol' contest hold a concert, too."

"Lousy singing and smashed cars don't cancel each other out insurance-wise," Moby said. "This is maybe the dumbest idea I've heard from you since I signed on to the team."

"Well, don't sugarcoat it too much there, Moby," Heph said.

"Fine. It's a stupid [CENSORED] idea that makes me wish I'd never joined up with you guys, will cause me to go bald, I'll lose my fiancee, and thousands of people who see it on tv will die when anvils drop on their heads from interdimensional rifts caused by the stupidity of the idea. That's how [CENSORED] stupid it is."

"No, no," Heph said. "Tell me how you really feel, Moby. I appreciate your feedback. Don't hold back."

"You make me hate going to work in the morning."

"Yeah, that noon production meeting is a killer." the Cobalt Claymore said.

"You know what I mean!" the monochromatic swordsman snapped at his blue-clad counterpart. "And why are you here anyway? You're not on the team."

"Heph wanted an unbiased opinion from a biased friend," the Cobalt Claymore said. "You know, someone who doesn't have any kind of financial or job interest in the series, but still wants it to succeed."

"You sound like a fan," Moby said.

"Yes, I'm a fan of the show, for what it's worth," the Cobalt Claymore said. "It's great to watch on a Friday night before going out on late-night patrol."

"Or before watching 'Happy Pony Rainbow Squad: The Midnight Directive,' you mean," Moby snapped.

"There's nothing wrong with that show!" the Cobalt Claymore said. "It's good entertainment!"

"I thought that was a kids' show," Fang said. "You know, bright and colorful ponies having adventures about sharing and other stuff."

"Maybe you need to watch the show, Fang," Heph said as he picked up the now-forgotten display. "The only thing they share there is a love of violence, heavy drug use and sexual situations not fit for younger audiences."

Fang was bewildered. "But... they're always smiling in the commercials! And prancing around in a meadow!"

"That's not prancing," the Cobalt Claymore said. "If you actually watch it, you'll see that they're circling each other in preparation for a graphically-intense and bloody knife fight."

"How graphic?" Fang asked.

"Uhm, it makes Watership Down look like Teletubbies?" the younger swordsman said.

Fang's lupine jaw dropped in horror.

"Yeah, one of the later characters, Sunshine Flenser Omicron, does a little dance after killing his enemies, then he cuts their hooves off for trophies."

"But how?" Fang squeaked. "They seem so wholesome... and they don't have hands or opposable thumbs!"

"I agree with the werewolf," Moby said. "That just doesn't seem possible."

"Because it's a cartoon?" Heph asked. "Anyway, you guys don't like the idea of the fantasy camp. So noted. You guys don't believe that it's an entertainer's duty to engage and entertain the public. Got it."

"No, we don't want lawsuits from lawyers who want to be the next Chris Jenkins over the related injuries, that's what it is, Heph," Moby said. "Also, no one in their right mind wants to be you. We're stopping the madness before it starts by doing this."

Larry's cellphone bleeped. "Hello?" the liaison said. "Oh, hello, Verlene. Another notice to appear, huh? All right. I'll assemble the team and we'll be right there. Oh, could you save some of those cookies you made? I skipped breakfast. Thanks, bye."

Larry looked at his teammates. "We've got a case. We're headed to the Yards."

"Yer in the Yards," Pipewrench said from behind the counter. "Did ya not notice the street signs?"

"I was trying to be ironic," Larry said.

Pipewrench snorted. "It was a lousy attempt."

The crew got their gear and headed back to the office.

Once they arrived at the office, the team started reading through the sheaf of papers on the dingy gray desk. Larry stopped in mid-paragraph with a look of surprise on his face. "Guys, we have a problem."

"Let me guess, the Clockwork Paladin is asking for ramp access to the bank in Kings Row?"

"No, I'm serious. This is bad. Back Yard Boom is being sued for sexual harassment by the Knives of Artemis, the Carnival of Shadows, and... female Nemesis Automatons, it says here."

Heph grabbed the paperwork. "Let me see that!" He began to read the papers. "The plaintiffs say that they were groped by the defendant during the course of their official duties. This is serious. We'd better get over there now before his mother or little sister find out."

The team ran for their waiting SUV and headed back to Kings Row.

Heph and Moby managed to catch Back Yard Boom as he was about to head into the aged brick building that held his apartment. Their feet echoed across the flat stone courtyard that connected his building with three others.

"Boom, you got some 'splaining to do," heph said as he handed his fellow cyborg the court papers.

"What the crap is this? A lawsuit? Fer what?" Back Yard Boom sputtered. "I know it ain't business related, 'cause I build quality stuff."

"You're being sued by three major criminal groups for sexual harrassment," Moby said.

"Dude! Keep that quiet," Boom said. "Everybody's gonna hear. Come inside."

After exchanging pleasantries and calming his easily-excitable mother down, Heph, Moby and Boom discussed the case. Back Yard Boom's mother set out coffee for the group and sat down in her late husband's recliner to listen as the trio of heroes talked about the lawsuit.

"Look, I never harrassed any'a them women, no matter how tight their clothes might be," Boom said. "I was raised better'n that!"

"Well, these pictures don't lie," Heph said. In each one, Boom seemed to be groping a woman from one of the aggrieved groups.

"That ain't gropin'! That's a kinetic energy transfer punch ta the chest!" Boom said incredulously. "Same thing with that one there, too! Look, I'll show ya, just without the power up." With that Boom fired off a punch at Moby's chest. "It's like that, with a modified eagle claw hand strike from kung fu."

Moby looked down at the young cyborg's hand. "That's my pectoral there, Boom. Please remove your hand."

"Well, then there's the aspect where I get their attention so they don't attack my teammates an' stay focused on me," Boom added.

"A hand on my pec is pretty attention-getting," Moby growled.

"Yeah, but this is what keeps 'em focused on me. Honk honk!" the blue-armed hero said as he squeezed the swordsman's pectoral muscle. Moby twitched.

"I want to kill you. You just groped me on national television. That's worthy of a smiting," Moby said as he went for his sword.

"It's a legitimate strategy in a fight!" Boom said. "Use yer enemy's weaknesses against him or her as the case may be."

"I don't care. You should have done that to Heph!" Moby shouted.

"Yer stayin' focused on me, right?" Boom said.

"Because I want to chop you into tiny bits, that's why I'm staying focused on you!" Moby shot back.

"An' that allows my teammates ta get behind ya and take ya out."

"Then take your hand off my- wait, where did your hand go?" Moby said, looking around.

"Right here," Boom said.

Moby looked up to find Back Yard Boom's hand less than an inch away from his face. The swordsman jumped back. "GAH! Don't DO that!"

"Well, according to the Rhode Island Superheroic Activity Statutes, distracting tactics like that fall under the Gauntlet Act of 2005. The only law you might have broken was the law of good taste."

"No matter what, though, I gotta show up in court, right?"

"Yeah," Heph said. "Get a good attorney."

"I got Chris Jenkins on retainer. He owes me fer a last-second escape from a Rikti plasma blast."

"No," Moby said. "A good attorney, not a ethically-challenged one."

"They're the best ones, right?" Boom said.

Heph shrugged. "I'm not touching that comment at all. Just show up with the papers at the courthouse on the date provided."

Moby blinked. "You're not going to say that he got SERV'D!, Heph?"

"No, but someone's going to be in for a lot of painful testimony. If he gets Athena Currie as plaintiff's laywer, there's gonna be trouble."

"Why's that?" Moby asked Heph.

"He can't demonstrate the technique on her without getting slapped." Heph said.

"I didn't think of that. Well, hope for the best, then." Moby said.

"Either that or... wait. Who do we know who's comfortable enough with Back Yard Boom not to freak out if he uses a tried-and-true distraction technique?"

"She'd have to be familiar with the ways of the tanker," Moby said, "And she'd have to be self-assured enough not to be creeped out."

"DOC DELILAH!" the two court agents exclaimed.

Back Yard Boom's face reddened. "Ah, geez, guys... it was only a couple dates we went on!"

The camera faded out and the credits rolled.

((Episode 14))

"When last we left our heroes--" a nasally annoucer said.

The screen flashed to a picture of Hephaestus 1 and Mobius Knight in their latest publicity photo.

"They were seen," said the unknown announcer, "at a car dealership turned den of robotic ill-repute, run by the nefarious Pimp Nemesis of That 70's Dimension!"

The screen flashed to a picture of Pimp Nemesis and his bevy of robotic and cybernetic ladies. Pimp Nemesis' diamond-studded tooth could be seen shining in their publicity photo.

"How will our heroes get out of this mess?"

The screen flashed to a scene of a very-nervous looking Mobius Knight as he was surrounded by robot strippers who apparently weren't programmed with the concept of "personal space." Hephaestus 1 is nowhere to be seen.

"And what of Hephaestus 1's dear mother? How will she deal with the fact that her son has been exposed to robot strippers?"

The screen flashed to a picture of Heph being dragged along by one antenna by his mother, who was hitting him with a shillelagh.

"All this and more tonight on-"

Animated versions of Heph and Moby appeared to be running towards the screen to a familiar-sounding tune.

"SERV'D!" a chorus sang out as the cartoon forms of Heph and Moby leapt over office workers and lawyers.

"SERV'D!" the chorus sang as cartoon Heph and Moby hand over summons with the screen being replaced with a wildly-lettered "SUBPOENA!" This was followed up by Heph and Moby handing a summons to a Freakshow Tank which switched to a wildly-lettered "DELIVERY!" Cartoon Heph and Moby then were seen handing a sheaf of papers to Lord Recluse "PROCESS SERVICE!"

All of that was followed by a trio of cartoon villains looking very annoyed and confused.

The rest of the opening graphics were pretty much still versions of Cartoon Heph and Moby looking awesome, with the chorus just singing "Serv'd!" every so often at appropriate points.

The screen faded back in to the car dealer's building that was secretly a front for Pimp Nemesis' robot strip club. Heph, Moby and Mrs. O'Flannagan faced down the odd Nemesis with the outrageous hat and the Android Sisters.

"Look, Nemesis," Heph began, but stopped when Pimp Nemesis held up his hand.

"Don't call me Nemesis, call me by my street name," Pimp Nemesis said. "4C6F7264204E656D6573697300, my metal brother."

"But that's just Lord Nemesis in Hexadecimal format!" Heph said.

"Still, 4C6F7264204E656D6573697300 is what my ladies call me, isn't it?" Pimp Nemesis said as the Android Sisters nodded.

Moby shook his head as if to drive away the weirdness. "That guy who just ran into your... robot gentleman's club... has been cheating people out of their scrap metal."

Pimp Nemesis looked worried as the Android Sisters locked on to him.

"You said that was freshly-forged brass, you worm!" BOOG-E said.

"Yeah, and aluminum sheeting isn't supposed to be wrinkly!" WOOG-E added.

"But baby, that's how I got it at Abercrombie!" Pimp Nemesis said. "You said you wanted something from there, right?"

"I called the store and they don't sell aluminum sheeting!" the robot stripper said.

"You're lying to us," the sisters said as their eyes glowed red. "We don't like liars."

Pimp Nemesis raised an embroidered shop towel to wipe the oil sweating from his face. "Ladies, have I ever lied to you?"

"YES," both said as they fired their lasers at the brasswork giant.

Pimp Nemesis ran around screaming and swearing as his favorite outrageous hat caught fire from the laser attacks.

Heph looked at Moby. "Well, that's one way of distracting them while we go find that guy."

"I'm not going in there, Heph. I don't even like knowing that robot strip clubs exist. It tears at my soul from the weirdness." Mobius Knight stood there, hand on his sword.

"Fine, I'll go in there, then. Hand me the paperwork," Heph said.

"OHHH NO YE DON'T, MICHAEL BRIAN O'FLANNAGAN!" Mrs. O'Flannagan said with rising indignity in her voice. "Lord only knows what mischief you'll get into in there without yer mother along!"

"Uhm, no," Heph said. "I can't go into a robot strip club with my mother. That's just wrong. You have to stay out here-- WAITWAITWAIT!" Heph shouted as his mother grabbed one of his comm system antennae and dragged him in there.

"I came to see my darling son do his job, an' that's what I'll see!" Mrs. O'Flannagan said as she dragged her son towards the den of mechanical iniquity.

"But Mom," Heph whined, "I don't want people to see me in there with you! It'll be embarrassing!"

"They're only robots," Mrs. O'Flannagan said.

"They're sentient AIs, Mom, so they're like regular human women in a way. They're-" Heph's attention was caught by something else. "Uh, WOOG-E? Your I/O ports are showing."

"Gah! Embarrassment subroutine activated!" the robot dancer said as she tried to cover herself more with the Turtle Wax.

"I meant on your neck," Heph said.

"Double embarrassment! This isn't good!" WOOG-E said as she ran back in the club.

Mrs. O'Flannagan began walking towards the club, dragging her son by one of his ear-mounted antennae.

"I don't wanna go in there!" Heph shouted. He received a smack on the head with Mrs. O'Flannagan's shillelagh.

After twenty minutes, an embarrassed-looking Mrs. O'Flannagan and a somber-looking Heph walked out of the club.

"There will be therapy bills because of this, Mom. Mark my words," Heph said. "I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to rationalize being dragged into a strip club by my mother."

"It's because it's your job and I won the chance to ride along with you! Well, I hope I never see such horrible sights again!" the older woman said.

"I told you, Mom," Heph said. "This job goes from weird to really weird in an instant." They walked back to Moby who was currently being fussed over by the Android Sisters and a few of the other robot dancers.

"I'm happily engaged, thank you very much!" Moby said as he tried to extricate himself from the throng of robot women.

"We have many advantages to human women," WOOG-E said.

Moby turned away from the robot dancer. "No you don't."

"But we're self-lubricating!" WOOG-E said.

Moby's eyebrow raised. He seemed to be twitching just a bit as well. "I did NOT need to know that!"

"No, you sicko, I meant that our various points of articulation are self-lubricating so we don't get the robot version of arthritis."

Moby sighed. "You're robots who are throwing themselves at me. I have told you to stop it. I'm getting really really- oh, never mind." With that, the masked swordsman drew his katana. "ROBOT SMACKDOWN TIME!"

The robots scattered. "I have had it with all these [CENSORED] ROBOTS on this [CENSORED] PLANE OF EXISTENCE!" Moby shouted as he swung wildly.

Heph ran to the melee and grabbed Moby's arm in mid-swing. "NO! BAD SIDEKICK!" Heph shouted at his teammate.

The fury died down a little. "Sidekick?" Moby asked. "I'm your partner!"

"You're acting like a sidekick, so I'm going to treat you like a sidekick," Heph said. "Now drop the sword and apologize to these women."

"They're robots, Heph."

"They have feelings, Moby. If you puncture them, do they not leak? If you say '01100110011000010111001001110100' do they not engage humor subroutines?" Heph asked. "Regardless, you still need to apologize."

"Oh, all right," Moby said.

As the crew was driving back to the court building, Mrs. O'Flannagan started in on her son again.

"'Tis a horrible job you took me on, son," she said grimly. "Your sainted grandmother would die again if she'd seen what we saw today!"

Heph parked the SUV and turned it off. He got out, opened up the passenger door and pulled his mother from the vehicle. With a little grace the big blue cyborg set the older woman down gently upon her feet.

"Mom. I didn't ask you to come along on this call. You won the contest and picked today out of all the other days you could have gone."

"That's true, boyo."

"And what's with the lousy Irish accent? You're from Downers Grove, for crying out loud! You're from the far west SUBURBS of Chicago! No one talks like that in Downers Grove! Not even Grandma did!"

"Well, I thought it might add something you don't hear every day to your show," his mother said, her accent disappearing.

"There's a lot of things you don't hear every day on my show, Mom," Heph said. "When I tell you not to follow me, it's for a good reason. It could be dangerous or unexplainable. I spent almost 25 years as a cop, Mom, I have good reasons for not wanting you to get in the line of fire, even if it's just someone throwing pies."

"Well, you shouldn't be mad at me, Mickey, I was only doing what I thought was right," Mrs. O'Flannagan said.

"Yeah, and now you can't unsee what you have seen. Just listen to me the next time, okay?"

"There's a next time?" Mrs. O'Flannagan asked.

"Yeah, if you buy another ticket and win," Heph said.

"Well, I do have the luck of the Space Irish," Mrs. O'Flannagan.

"Not the Space Irish story again, Mom," Heph said. "Grandma told me that there's no such person as Xandar O'Herlihy, High Roverlord of the Space Irish Empire."

"Oh, really now?" Mrs. O'Flannagan said incredulously. "Then who's that hovering over your shoulder?"

"That's Clem, the cameraman. I really do have eyes in the back of my head, Mom. They were an option."

Mrs. O'Flannagan scowled. "Rats. I almost had you, too."

"Let's go home, Mom. I'm sure you're dying to tell Shava about the family," Heph said as he opened up the door to th SUV.

"Fine," Mrs. O'Flannagan said, "but we're going to dinner at a proper restaurant tonight. I don't care if you get free meals at City of Gyros, I want something good."

"Did I tell you about the time when Mobius Knight and I fought the Gyrobber, the mischievous rival to Yanni Baklavapoulos, the City of Gyros Mascot?"

"Yes, a dozen times," his mother said as the scene faded to credits.

I know the Pachowski family has a bone to pick with the Rikti... they just haven't found the bone yet. It's in one of those rikti somewhere...

Name: Back Yard Boom
Global Contact: @jchinds
Level of Classification: 50 Tanker
Origin: Tech
Super Rank & Super Group: Leader, The Young Phalanx

Name: Emo Catgirl
Global Contact: @jchinds
Level of Classification: 34
Origin: Mutant
Super Rank & Super Group: Little Sister to the Leader/ Recruiter, The Young Phalanx

(Keep it running here. It's pretty good so far.)

The Cobalt Claymore and Mother Aoi sat at a low table, a still-steaming pot of green tea and two small earthenware cups placed between them. The young hero thanked his kimono-clad servant and waved him away.

"That will be all for now, Hida. So, if I agree to taking over the family, Mother, what kind of authority do I have?"

"Well, Todd, the pacts with the Oni and with Shadow state that among the families within our organization, your word is law."

"That's just asking for abuse."

"A leader who abuses his power isn't a leader for very long."

"True, but my word will be law in this case. What limits do I have, then?"

"Anything that causes a breach of the pacts is your limit. Other than that, you will have free rein to use your forces as you see fit."

"I'll need to review them, then."

"Yes."

"I'll also need to determine the strengths and weaknesses of each man and woman under my command."

"Don't forget the children. Their training begins at an early age."

"Right. So... I get to tell people what to do, huh?"

"Yes."

"Any contracted missions, right? How about missions I initiate myself?"

"You'll have the authority to do that... just what are you getting at? And why are you smiling, son?"

"You're in rather good shape for a woman your age, Mother. Have you ever thought of getting married again?"

"No. I have not."

"Perhaps you should start thinking about it. The future belongs to those who show up, after all. I think a few brothers and/or sisters would be a good addition to the family."

The Cobalt Claymore smiled wickedly, just like his mother, and took a few sips of tea.

(And now for a word from our sponsors.)

*The camera fades in on Hephaestus 1 as he's throwing a Skull through the doorway of the local PPD precinct house.*

Narrator: Hephaestus 1! You've made your 10,000th arrest in Kings Row this week! How are you going to celebrate?

*Hephaestus 1 turns to face the viewer and holds up a familiar can.*

Hephaestus 1: By picking up a can of Red Beast INTENSITY energy drink! From the ground!

*The scene shifts to Heph sitting in a late-Victorian study, where he's seated in an overstuffed chair wearing a smoking jacket and a beautiful supermodel sits on his lap.*

Hephaestus 1: Red Beast INTENSITY is the kind of drink that makes people want to know you, right anonymous supermodel?

*The supermodel begins to speak but is interrupted by Heph.*

Hephaestus 1: That's right, Red Beast INTENSITY is just that kind of energy drink! But don't take my word for it just because I'm sitting in a well-appointed study with a beautiful woman on my lap!

*Heph stands up, dumping the supermodel to the ground as she yelps in surprise. Heph takes a step forward and the scene cuts to Heph walking through a laboratory in a white lab coat. The lab has a large banner on the back wall that reads "IMPORTANT DRINK SCIENCE."*

Hephaestus 1: Take my word for it because I'm wearing a lab coat and walking through a room full of men and women who wear lab coats, all of whom use words like "maltrodextromorphithan" and "hydrazine" and "urea straining methodologies." But most of all they use words like "science."

Lab full of Scientists, all of whom sound bored and detached: "Science. Yes."

*As Hephaestus 1 walks through the lab, he grabs another ice-cold can of Red Beast INTENSITY from a very scientific-looking test stand, accidentally clotheslining the technician who was running the test.*

Hephaestus 1: It's the awesomeness of science that makes Red Beast INTENSITY the one energy drink that makes you say "Wow! Who -is- that sexy-looking cyborg in a lab coat?"

*He stops, pops open the can and hands it to a nearby clown who stands under the banner "TEST CLOWN." The clown drinks it then crushes the can on his forehead.*

Test Clown: Honk honk! This can fails!

Hephaestus 1: Oh, really?

*The clown immediately bursts into flame.*

Test Clown: It passes! It passes! Somebody put me out!

*Heph turns back to the camera.*

Hephaestus 1: And Red Beast INTENSITY still has that great clown-combusting flavor that no one in their right mind would ever sample. Like the tag line says, "Clowns Can't Hang, Yo."

Test Clown: Floppy shoes, charring! Squeaky nose... melting! OH, THE HUMANITY!

*Heph looks over at the burning clown and nods.*

Hephaestus 1: Indeed, clowns can't hang. Indeed.

*The scene shifts to a can of Red Beast INTENSITY on top of a table, with Heph trying to extinguish the clown in the background.*

Narrator: New Red Beast INTENSITY! Go ahead and drink it! Science says it's okay now!

((For those who don't know, "Happy Pony Rainbow Squad: The Midnight Directive" is my spoof of 80s cartoon shows like GI Joe and Spiral Zone and the like. Imagine GI Joe written by Warren Ellis. Then for the sake of absurdity (and to get it past the censors) make the characters all My Little Pony-type ponies. As a result it gets to be incredibly violent and gory, peppered with lots of adult themes such as heavy drug use, political intrigue and using sex as psychological warfare. Yes, this is also marketed directly at kids in a toy line by a major manufacturer of children's goods. Metalocalypse would be a great lead-in for this show. If they just used regular people, this show would never be aired except maybe on HBO. When you use adorable children's animated characters, though, you get comedy gold covered in the blood of the unsuspecting. And yes, it does tell in a very twisted way the story of what the Cobalt Claymore's parents did for a living before he was born. The questions now are who is broadcasting this and why. With that explanation out of the way, enjoy the story.))

As was his regular weekly ritual, the Cobalt Claymore tuned into the next exciting episode of the cartoon series "Happy Pony Rainbow Squad: The Midnight Directive." The hero watched with rapt attention as normal.

"No, Ninja Princess Mai! You can't take our foals back to your Secret Ninja Lair where they'll be turned into equine engines of silent death!" Butter Brickle Alpha shouted over the sound of gunfire and ninja pony martial arts attacks. "Families are supposed to stick together!"

"When you decided to turn the Squad into an ally of the Gloomy Gang, things changed," the leader of the ninja ponies said.

"We've been wrong all along! The other members of the Squad realized it, too! We were lied to for all these years!"

"No, you chose to follow orders without question. It was the right thing to do, but you have forsaken the power that comes with it. What our foals will learn is where true power exists. The Midnight Directive is the source of that power and we will use it as we see fit. Now, die like a good ex-husband and let me raise our sons properly."

"Like Hell I will!" Butter Brickle Alpha said as he drew his pistols and started shooting. The Cobalt Claymore's jaw dropped as the pony Gunslinger-lookalike yanked the youngest colt away from his mother. Dramatic music welled up as the ninja pony and one of her children ran through a shadowy portal in slow motion and as the leader of Happy Pony Rainbow Squad was stabbed and cut repeatedly by the faceless horde of ninja ponies. Naturally, he won the day through judicious use of gunfire, as he usually did. At the end of the fight, one pony and his newly-foaled son stood victorious amid a pile of dead ninja ponies and the dead and mortally-wounded members of Happy Pony Rainbow Squad. Butter Brickle Alpha cantered urgently to the side of his second-in-command, Sun Drop 1-1-0.

"Did... did we win, BB?" the other pony Gunslinger gasped.

"She got away with one of our sons," Butter Brickle Alpha said. "I saved one, though."

"Damn... there goes our perfect record," Sun Drop 1-1-0 said. Then he fell silent and his adorable black pony eyes glazed over.

"NOOOOOOOO!" the last pony standing neighed in grief and rage.

The Cobalt Claymore sat and fumed. Someone was making a mockery of his parents' lives. His mother was around to react appropriately for herself, but the insult to his father wouldn't stand. He grabbed his laptop and started typing out an email. The teaser for the next episode appeared with a cowled pony brooding on the ledge of a skyscraper.

"Butter Brickle Alpha is no more," the pony said. "From here on out, the Cobalt Cavalier shall spread justice, friendship and righteous butt-kickings throughout Gloomy Gulch!"

In a nice houseboat docked near the Founders Falls campus of Paragon City University, a litany of swearing occurred, and occurred loudly.

((Episode 13!))

*"Serv'd!" opening credits & music blah blah blah*

After the latest fiasco involving superheroics, Hephaestus 1 and Mobius Knight were sitting in the SUV and arguing.

"We are never doing that again, Heph," Moby said.

"I agree with you," the big blue cyborg replied. "I've been agreeing with you for the entire time."

"I hold you responsible for having to be shrunk to a microscopic size, loaded up into a syringe, injected through a guy's skin and through the outer layers of of his intestinal wall, forced to negotiate with a tiny Norse god, being assaulted by creatures that can't be properly described on cable, and finally I hold you responsible for my friends outside of work snickering behind my back!" Moby said, sticking his finger in Heph's face.

"Look, it was an emergency. You're a doctor, or at least you've got some kind of medical training, right? Larry is our friend and our boss. Were you going to let him suffer like that?"

"Considering the solution? Yes. Very yes," the swordsman growled. "He can live out the rest of his life in lightning-induced pain for the rest of eternity for all I care! I was stuck in that man's colon for two hours!"

"Oh, I know. I was there, too, remember?" Heph yelled. "Or is it all about widdle Mobums being inconvenienced and sent headlong into incomprehensible danger? Is it too much for you? Can't hack it?"

"Oh, I can, but I'm sick of having to face threats like this! We get sent on the dumbest assignments!" Moby pointed at the onboard computer system. "Look at our work list! Leash law violations for War Wolves, Cease-and-Desist orders for the group of people who heckle new heroes looking for the Lost in Kings Row, a summons based on import law violations for Dr. Vahzilok because he's using more than 20 percent foreign parts in what he builds, and that's just the start! Heph, we get nothing but the dumbest jobs!"

"No one else can do these jobs, dumb or not. These jobs require heroes to do them because regular people tend to get injured from the kind of responses they get to delivering these court papers," Heph said. "If you don't like it, then quit. I'll find another partner who can put up the work."

"Quit?" Moby asked. "Quit? What, and see you happy that your partner isn't complaining? Oh, hell no."

Heph sighed. "Then keep your complaints to yourself. Besides, we're getting a new assignment as of today. We're still doing process serving, but we're also going to be doing some PR work. Nice, easy PR work.

Heph's cellphone connection beeped. "Hang on. Hello? What? NOW? But I- Okay, I'll be right there. Yes, I'm leaving now. No, I- No- I- That- Look, I'll be- Okayfinehangingupnowbye!" The cyborg shook his head.

"What's going on?" Moby said.

"That was Shava on the phone. I have to get home. Immediately, in fact," Heph said. "My parents dropped in for a visit."

"You have parents?" Moby asked.

"Yes. I do have parents," Heph grumbled as he pulled the SUV out of the parking lot and headed home. "Larry's assignments can wait."

Heph pulled into his usual parking space and saw a familiar station wagon parked just up the street. It was an older model of Subaru, one of the earlier wagons from the mid-1980s. Heph's parents bought it when they downsized from a 1970s-era car to one that reflected fewer children still living at home with them. There were two people on the stoop besides Shava: a large barrel-chested man whose gray hair was flecked with black and a short, skinny woman with slowly-fading red hair and a slight frown of disapproval on her face. Heph turned the SUV off and extended the solar array to recharge the battery for the hybrid's electric motor. He stepped out of the van and walked over to the stoop.

"Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!"

The aging redhead threw her arms around her big cyborg son as be she could. "Ah, Mickey, 'tis a happy day in your poor old mother's life that she can see her oldest son again!" she said in a thick Irish accent.

"Uh, hey, Mom," Heph said as he gently returned his mother's hug.

The gray-haired man just nodded. "Boy."

"Dad. How was the drive?"

"Sixteen hours. Turnpike problems."

Heph nodded. "Yep. Sounds right."

"Got a cold beer in the fridge for your father?"

"Do we as a family tend to listen when the Pope talks?"

The old man grinned. "I'll grab one for you, too."

Shava just scowled. "They just showed up. You 'idn't say anything about this."

"I didn't know about it." Heph looked at his mother. "Uh, Mom, why are you and Dad here?"

"We just decided to pop in and see how you were doing, Mickey," Mrs. O'Flannagan said. "An' who's the fellow in the scarf and mask? Your partner on your tv show, right?"

"Uh, yeah, this is Mobius Knight, my teammate. Moby, this is my mom. Dad just went in to grab a beer."

"Nice to meet you," Moby said as he extended his hand. "You can call me Moby. And your name is...?"

"Mrs. O'Flannagan to you, lad," Heph's mother said. "We haven't known each other long enough for first names to be used."

Moby's eyebrow raised. "I... see."

Mrs. O'Flannagan looked over at her son again. "I've met Shava now, and I'm sure we can get along just fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Even if you two're doing God-Knows-What in a complete mockery of your parents' holy matrimony!"

"Mom, stop saying that," Heph said. "I'm legally obliged to not mention what Shava and I do together during our time off."

"Oh really?" Mrs. O'Flannagan asked.

"It got written into the contract for the rest of the team," Heph said dejectedly.

"Well, I'm no party to either side of the contract, so as your mother I'll tell you to stop being such a heathen!"

"Mom!" Heph yelled. "Quit that!"

Heph's father walked out of the apartment, a beer in each hand. "Boy," he said with a scowl, "Don't yell at your mother."

"Yes, sir. I apologize, Mom," Heph said.

"Now, as for the woman in your life, son, I approve. Even if we wind up having some kind of flamethrower duel or something, she's a good woman... she -is- a woman, right?" Mrs. O'Flannagan asked.

"Yes, but I'm not allowed to say how I know on account of the fact that the crew is here and filming and thus obliged under contract to not say anything," Heph said back.

"Well, at least you're willing not to breach a contract," Mrs. O'Flannagan said.

Shava nodded. "No contract breaches that I know of. He's 'ood like that."

"Uh, yeah," Heph said. "I'll go get the guest room set up."

"Oh, don't you mind, Mickey, I'm sure we can find some hotel somewhere in town, one that's not too rat-infested," Mrs. O'Flannagan said as Mr. O'Flannagan rolled his eyes. Mrs. O'Flannagan jabbed her husband in the side with a shillelagh.

"When 'id we 'et a 'uest room?" Shava asked, her tail twitching. "We aren't using my lab!"

"I was thinking the low-gravity room maybe?"

Shava's face turned sour. "The low 'rav room is for us, Heph."

"I know, but it's my parents," Heph said.

"No. They can sleep on the couch," Shava said. "Or they can 'o to the hotel by the police station."

"The one by the gun shop, bar, and vacant lot filled with Skulls and Clockwork?"

"It's close by," Shava said.

"Gun shop?" Mr. O'Flannagan said. "There's one in town?"

"Yeah, Dad," Heph said.

"Handguns?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"Think they'd let a retired Chicago cop look around?"

"Probably, but how are you going to get it home?"

"Clout?"

Heph slapped his forehead. "Dad, this is Paragon City. Clout doesn't work here."

"Riiiight, clout doesn't work here," Mr. O'Flannagan said. "once again, your old man is going to prove you wrong, Mickey."

"Dad, please don't try--"

"No, don't try to stop me, and I promise I won't say I told you so when I manage to get a gun delivered home to the shop my friends own."

"What, the one run by the Indian chick and her tiny blonde bomb-throwing assistant?"

"Yeah, the one with the car you always wanted."

"The GT500? She still has it?" Heph asked.

"Yeah." Mr. O'Flannagan said.

"Fine, fine, fine. It's your federal weapons charges, not mine, Dad," Heph said. "Well, let's get you over to the hotel."

Hours later, Heph and Moby were sitting in Larry McGonigle's office. Moby's evil grin couldn't be hidden at all by his mask. Larry, Clem and Earl were all looking at each other and smiling.

"So, she actually pulled out pictures of Heph when he was a baby?" Larry said.

"Yeah," Moby said. "The baby pictures were cute, but the one of him running around the house as Astro Boy was downright hilarious!" the swordsman said.

"I was six!" Heph sputtered.

"How you got your hair to stand like that I'll never know," Moby said.

"Lard," Heph grumbled.

"Who knew that years later you'd be running around in an actual robotic body?" Larry chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Heph said, trying to change the subject. "What've we got?"

"Oh, you'll love this. In order to provide a further community service, the District Court system has set up a lottery system for people to ride along with you guys.

"WHAT?" the four men exclaimed.

"Yep," Larry said as he pulled up the website. "People pay for the chance at riding with you guys on your assignments."

"But... but that means we're going to have to protect them!" Heph said. "And you know the kind of weird things that happen to us!"

"Yes, I know. That weirdness helped the courts raise a few million dollars to pay for renovating the building. The result? The state didn't have to use as much tax money so other programs were spared. Besides, this is an easy one. You're bringing a summons to a guy who's a known Nemesis Army member. He uses a scrap-dealing business to funnel parts to Nemesis. However, your summons is only bring him to Small Claims court. He's been cheating people on brass and aluminum recycling prices."

"Wait, he's with Nemesis?" Heph asked.

"Yes. But until we get some solid evidence other than just his admission, we can't go after him for that. We can, however, get him for cheating kids out of money for scrap brass and aluminum cans."

Heph picked up the summons envelope and put it into his jacket pocket. "We'll be back in a bit."

"Wait, Heph, you'll need to take along the ride-along winner with you. She just got into town today," Larry said with a slowly-spreading grin that caused a great amount of consternation for Heph.

"She's not from Chicago, is she?" Heph asked.

"Oh, she is," Larry said. "You know her quite well."

Heph used a lot of rather harsh words describing the fate which befell him.

Mrs. O'Flannagan stepped into the room. "Sure an' those words aren't to describe me, are they, boyo?"

"No, Mom," Heph said as he got up to leave. "Look, can we just go now? We've got to get this call over and done with."

"And a fine thing it is to see my son doing his job, just without the foul language," Mrs. O'Flannagan said.

Heph just muttered to himself as the team and their ride-along guest went to the SUV. The crew of "Serv'd!" stopped for lunch before they headed off to the scrap dealer.

"I'll tell you what I hate, Moby," Hephaestus 1 said to his partner as they pulled into a local drive-in restaurant. "Ride-along programs."

"Are they really that bad?" Mobius Knight asked.

"Well, you have to watch out for your rider as well as yourself. To make things worse, you wind up doing all kinds of stupid crap to ensure they don't get caught in the middle of some inside joke or practical joke war when they're being briefed at the station." Heph looked into the rearview mirror and sighed.

Staring back at him from the rear passenger bench seat was one Mrs. O'Flannagan, his mother. "Oh, don't mind me, boyo. I'll just be sittin' in the back seat here prayin' the Holy Rosary fer your heathen soul!"

"Oooooh, someone's in trouble," Moby said with a smirk under his mask. He was rewarded with a quick smack on the back of the head with a shillelagh.

"Waagh!" Moby said with surprise. "What was that for?"

"Sure an' that's 'cause yer with him!" Mrs. O'Flannagan. "Oh, my poor son, caught up in a nest of loose women and bad friends! It'd drive the saints to tears!"

The only sound that could be heard was that of Heph's metal head hitting the steering wheel repeatedly.

"I may approve of your girlfriend, Mickey, but you still need to listen to your mother and just wait until you're married."

Heph was still headbutting the steering wheel.

Moby patted his friend on the shoulder. "It's okay, big guy. This explains so much about you."

"Oh, shut up," Heph said. He stopped headbutting the steering wheel, turned the key and they drove off with their lunch.

The crew arrived at the scrap dealer. A very shifty-looking man looked up at the approaching car, got up, and ran into the warehouse where the business was located.

"That's him!" Moby said as he identified the man through his Paragon PD communicator. Heph caught up with the running man and hit the brakes, opened his door and rolled out of the SUV as it came to a full stop.

"Hang on a second there, Sparky!" Heph shouted as he grabbed the scrap dealer by the collar of his shirt. The dealer had the door half open, and a quick bass drum beat could be heard from inside.

"I'm just trying to run a business here! I'm not selling liquor or anything, just let me run my business!" the dealer said nervously.

"Right, but you can't cheat people by not giving them the posted prices for their scrap metal!" Heph said. That's why we're here to give you a-" Heph looked inside. His mechanical Eyebrow of Surprise and Disbelief popped up.

Heph turned to his partner. "Moby?"

"Yeah?" Moby asked as he got to the door.

"Make sure Mom is distracted. Away from the door."

"It's too late, Mickey," Mrs. O'Flannagan said. "I came to see what it is that you do for myself and- SAINTS PRESERVE US!" she said as she averted her eyes.

"That's why I wanted you to be distracted, Mom," Heph said. "This guy isn't just running a crooked scrap business, he's also running a robot strip club."

Two identical female-type robots popped their heads out the door. "Hello, Hephaestus 1," they said in unison. "Have you come to see us perform?"

"Uh, Mom, I'd like you to meet two robots whom I know through the community group I founded for cyborgs, robots and their family members. Mom, this is BOOG-E and WOOG-E, the Android Sisters. They're uh, dancers..."

"Dancers? Robot hookers is more like it!" Mrs. O'Flannagan said.

"I thought Larry said we were going to have normal cases, Heph. He promised!" Moby said.

"Don't get all butthurt about it, Moby," Heph said.

"Correction to Hephaestus 1's mother," the Android Sisters said. "We're not robot hookers. We are custom-built exotic dance gynoids designed to seduce anything with a pulse or full battery charge in the case of other self-aware robots."

"LA LA LA THE ROBOTS ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT SEX IN FRONT OF ME," Moby shouted as he clasped his hands over his ears. "LA LA LA!"

Heph's mother wasn't sure whether to be scandalized or amused as the two robot sisters stepped out, covered in little more than a thick layer of strategically-placed Turtle Wax and curve-enhancing pinstriping.

"There are not naked robots in front of me! Nope, not at all!" Moby said until he was greeted with a smack on the head with Mrs. O'Flannagan's shillelagh.

"Ah, an orbital buffer show, huh? I wasn't aware that was part of your routine," Heph said as he was also greeted a smack on the head from his mother's shillelagh.

"My poor cyborg son is thrown from one den of iniquity to another! No wonder you're so stressed!" Mrs. O'Flannagan said. "Well, take care of the business at hand and let's go, Mickey. We'll talk about this when we get home. And how can you let such robots of ill-repute into an organization like COMMA?"

"The Committee Of Modern Mecha-Americans does not discriminate based on race, creed, origin, sexual orientation, employment or manufacturer, Mom," Heph said. "We don't judge, and besides, if one of our own is doing something wrong, we love the sinner but hate the sin, so to speak."

"That's a lot of sin in there," Mrs. O'Flannagan said as she craned her neck to see past the Android Sisters. "A lot of- OH MY!"

A large brass and steel body trudged its way to the door. Nemesis, or one of his fakes at least, stood there in a large fur-lined purple cape, draped in gold chains and wearing an outrageously large fur-trimmed purple hat with an equally outrageously-large feather. The robot leaned on his staff topped with revolving gears and rotating dollar signs.

"Well, Hephaestus 1, as I function and combust! What brings you to my little VIP showroom?" Nemesis said.

"Oh good grief," Heph said as the scene faded to black.

*credits roll*

Claire was sitting in front of her computer sniffling and fighting back a few tears. Mary Pachowski, always one capable of hearing a child's distress walked into Claire's room.

"Oh, what's wrong, Sweetie?" she asked her young hero of a daughter.

"They- they-" Claire's voice choked up into sobs. "They killed his teacher!" she blurted out.

"Who? Which teacher? Where was this? When?"

"Just n-now," Claire said. "Here..." She pressed play on the video. One of her favorite cartoons in fan-subtitled format began to play.

Mary's look of concern changed to annoyance. "It's that ninja cartoon again isn't it? Grow up a little, Claire. It's only television."

Mary shook her head. Kids cry over the dumbest things sometimes...

(Season 2, Episode 12)

The apartment that Hephaestus 1 and Shava lived in was in a nicer section of town. Shava finally convinced Heph that despite weighing nearly 600 pounds, it would be okay if he lived on an upper floor apartment and not in a basement apartment. It also usually looked like a mad engineer's spare-parts box; spare bearing packets, servomotors, wire connectors and other parts covered the end tables, coffee table and entertainment center. Sometimes the only way to do maintenance in a relaxed situation is to work while watching football.

Today, though, everything was squared away, looking like the infamous "field days" of Heph's stint in the Marines. The apartment had been cleaned, shined, dusted, vacuumed and brushed. Streamers were hung near the ceiling, balloons floated in the air, and a sign proclaiming "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" was strung over the mantel between the living room and the kitchen. The kitchen was currently bustling with activity as Mobius Knight, Larry McGonigle, Fang, Heph and the camera crew were making final preparations.

"This is a little extravagant, don't you think, Heph?" Moby asked from under a sea-captain style party hat.

Heph, his antennae festooned with the traditional conical party hats looked over at Moby. "Hey, this is a very special day to me, Lar. It's the day when I celebrate having a little light brought into my previously-dark life!"

"You're celebrating your cats' birthdays, Heph," Moby said.

"And you don't remember the day you first got Snugglesworth?" Fang asked.

"... I remember. Kind of," Moby said, "but it's not like I hold a freakin' party for him!"

"I distinctly remember someone checking Super Meats Butcher Shop for a perfect bacon-wrapped filet a few months ago," Heph said.

"Well, I like bacon-wrapped filets!"

"Then why were you comparing the color and quality of the meat to a birthday candle? You kept rejecting some pretty good cuts, there," Heph said, the smirk obvious in his voice.

"Maybe it was for Terra," Moby said.

"The candle was shaped like a Milk-Bone," Heph said.

Awkward silence ensued, broken only by a Terra-like "AHEM!" from out in the living room.

"She has a sense of humor," Moby replied in a weak defense.

Fang shook his head. "Moby, I'm the only person here who's even -remotely- canine and even -I- know better than to say something like that in front of a camera."

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Moby said.

"Nah, Terra's not listed as your beneficiary yet. She'll wait." Heph said.

Larry, Mitch and Clem worked on getting the cake for the cats ready. "Happy Bithday to Ozzie and Pudge," Mitch said. "Wait. There's no r in 'birthday', Clem."

"Uh, yes, there is, otherwise it'd be 'bithday' and people would have bith certificates," Clem shot back.

"No, man, there's no r in 'birthday'."

"Spell it out!" Clem snapped.

"B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y," Mitch replied. "But there's no r in 'birthday'!"

"You. Just. Said. It." Clem said through clenched teeth.

"Clem!" Larry shouted. "Read the damn cake!"

Clem snorted. "Fine. 'Happy Bithday to- oh, you're right. There's no r in 'birthday'. Lemme fix that."

"I oughta smack you," Mitch grumbled. "I'm afraid I'd catch your case of stupid, though."

After an hour or so, the cast and crew of "Serv'd!" walked into the living room with a huge pan of mostaccioli, a large bowl of salad, chips, drinks, cake, and two cat-sized cuts of New York Strip, placing it before the assembled guests.

"Thanks, everyone for showing up for this party," Heph said. "Today I'm celebrating the births of the two little guys who were the first living creatures to accept me in my current cyborg form, two loveable little fuzzballs who became my link to sanity, the--"

Heph's communicator buzzed. He opened it up. "Hang on a sec, folks. Huh. 'Get on with it, Dad.' That's the last time I mistake an uplift chamber for something that will make the cats hover."

"An' the last 'ime you'll 'o in my lab, 'oo," Shava, Heph's pyromaniac alien girlfriend, grumbled. "Unless you -like- bein' set on fire."

"No, dear," Heph mumbled to the laughs of the rest of the group. "Anyway, let's everybody put on these stupid party hats and sing Happy Birthday to my cats, all--" Heph looked at his communicator again. "'No singing, just eating.' That's my little Pudgeums."

Heph's cats rolled their eyes. Shava did as well, having learned that rolling one's eyes was truly a universal sign of annoyance.

"Fine. I guess no one wants to hear my awesome speech about my cats. Let's eat, then!" Heph said.

Moby was in line first to get a plate of mostaccioli. "I'm sure it was a very good speech," the swordsman said.

"It was," Heph grumbled.

Larry's plate was almost slopping over with food. "Man, I love Italian food! Too bad you couldn't have saved a steak for us, too."

"I told you guys that I was getting them for my cats. Besides-" his communicator buzzed again. He looked at it and poured some steak sauce onto the steaks for the cats.

"Well, happy birthday, you two," Heph said, scratching the cats gently on their heads.

After dinner, most of the guests sat around chatting and watching football while Heph cleaned up. Larry walked into the kitchen, clutching his stomach.

"Heph, do you guys have an antacid or something in here? I don't think that dinner agreed with my new health supplement."

"Health supplement?" Heph asked.

"Yeah, I saw it on the... ouch! Late-night infomercial. That new weight-loss pill."

"You mean Colon Thunder? The one that 'cleanses with lightning'?"

"Yeah..." Larry said.

"Larry, those pills are made by Morgoth Carter-Whatley! We delivered a cease-and-desist letter to him after the first product injury claims!" Heph shook his head. "Come on, we'd better get you to the hospital."

"It's not that bad, Heph," Larry said. "I just need an antacid or something!"

Larry would have said more, but suddenly he was cut off by a literal thunderclap from his nether regions.

"Ooh. Yeah, hospital is a good idea," the legal liaison said.

"What 'id you EAT, Larry?" Shava yelled from the living room. "I 'an smell it from here! Nobody light a match!"

"And that's why I love her, Lar," Heph said.

"Because she'll kick a guy when he's down?"

"Yeah, that works, too, I guess," Heph said. "Let's get you over to the hospital. Oh, and you -will- hang that out the window. I just got the interior detailed."

Moby, Larry, Fang and Heph were in the emergency room of Crown Medical center. The doctors looked at the heroes oddly. Why weren't they running out the door to fight crime? A sudden thunderclap gave them a full understanding as to why they weren't leaving. A young intern walked up to the team. "So, uh, which of you guys is sick?"

"That'd be the guy whose lower intestine is being cleansed with lightning," Heph said.

"Oh. Another Colon Thunder case? I thought they got all of that stuff off the market!" the intern said. "Well, Doctor Nehru is ready to see you now."

In 30 minutes, Larry was sitting on an examination table and grumbling. "You guys didn't need to come in here."

Heph shrugged. "Hey, if you're going to explode from this I figured I'd get it on film."

"All this for ratings, huh? What wouldn't you do to increase your ratings?" Larry asked.

"Run in slow motion while not wearing any pants. I would definitely not do that," Heph answered.

The intern looked over at Heph. "Why not?"

Heph leaned over and whispered into the intern's ear. The intern's eyes widened in shock and some small amount of horror. "The guy who built your cybershell really -is- a genius!"

Larry doubled over from a vicious cramp. A thunderclap and bright flash filled the room.

"That's bad," Fang said.

An unassuming Indian man in a lab coat walked in. "Yes, yes it is. It looks like Mr. McGonigle has ingested multiple dosages of Colon Thunder all at once. That's what we call 'a bad idea' where I come from."

"Doctor Nehru, I presume?" Heph said.

"Yes. And no jacket jokes, either. I'm sick of those," the doctor said. "It's as bad as my friend who is head of his country club's board of directors, Doctor Mao."

"He's the chairman, huh?" Heph asked. The doctor nodded.

"I only became a doctor because my parents said I'd never make it as a comedian in Omaha," Doctor Nehru replied. "Anyhoo, Mr. McGonigle has taken a mega-dose of this health supplement, and it's having an adverse effect."

"It feels like the end of the world down there," Larry complained.

"That's because it probably is. You were aware that each capsule has a tiny version of Thor, the Norse god of thunder in it, right?"

"The label said it was a mixture of elements designed to help me lose weight."

"Yeah, that's what we call a 'lie' in the medical community," Doctor Nehru said, emphasizing the word "lie" with air quotes. "No, the creator of this pill managed to trap Thor in a weird spell of some kind, split him into millions of tiny copies and stuck them into pills. Then through the rage of the mini-Thors people lose weight. The loss is usually sudden, violent and painful."

"So how do we fix this?" Larry asked, clutching his stomach.

"We send in negotiators."

Heph's mechanical eyebrow raised. "What?"

"We send in negotiators. They convince Thor to leave with minimal fuss and the day is saved. But someone has to go in there."

"Hell no," Heph, Fang, Larry and Moby (who was sitting outside and listening in on the conversation) said simultaneously.

"Let me see if I can get our team of specialists on the phone." With that, Doctor Nehru walked out.

Two hours later, Doctor Nehru came back. "They're, uh, busy. We'll need other negotiators. How would you guys like to--"

"NO," the four men said again.

"I'll die before I let these guys do surgery on me!"

"Oh, they won't be doing surgery. They'll be dealing with Thor face to face."

"What?" Heph said.

"Yes. We shrink you guys down to fit in there. Or we would, if the miniaturization chamber wasn't in use."

A little red-headed alien known better as Shava and even better as Heph's girlfriend, appeared in the doorway, her prehensile tail twitching and a look of glee on her face. "I think I may be of assistance," she said as she unslung a large rifle from her back. "I 'ot my shrink ray out of the lab, Heph."

"Ohhh dear," Mobius Knight said.

"I think it's 'ime for a little payback for 'oing into my lab without asking," Shava said with a grin. "You ought 'o volunteer and 'o in there, Heph."

"I don't want to see my liaison's intestinal lining, dear," Heph said.

"Don't worry! You'll have the finest medical backup in there," the fuzzy alien woman said, shooting a glance at Moby.

"Ohhhh no! Not happening!" Moby shouted.

"You're a doctor, so 'o doct," Shava said as she pointed the shrink ray at the swordsman.

*the scene switches suddenly to a tv studio office where Heph, Moby, Shava, Fang, Larry, and the entire technical crew behind "Serv'd!" are crowded in front of the camera.*

Heph looked into the camera with as much intent as his emotionless face could muster. "Ladies and gentlemen of the "Serv'd!" audience, it is with deep regret that we cannot show you the end to this episode. I mean, this stuff was too weird even for me! Okay, it's not so much regret but right after Shava shrunk us, we wound up fighting Tiny Thor and then fighting alongside Tiny Thor against the Invasion of the Polyp People. Frankly my editors and I couldn't find a single relatively cable-friendly shot of Larry's large intestine that was even vaguely dignifying to the guy. The only decent stuff we had was what we used for the promo commercial and even then, we had to do a LOT of CGI editing to make it appealing to primetime audiences. That made it go from reality television to non-reality television, and I can't do that to my audience."

"When Heph gets an attack of conscience and decides that dignity is worth more than ratings, you know it's a bad situation," Moby added.

Shava crossed her arms and scowled. "I thought it was entertaining, but 'o they listen 'o me? No!"

Heph looked over at Shava. "It's okay, Shava. You still get paid either way."

Shava harrumphed and looked away from her big blue boyfriend. "Should've set you on fire in the first place for 'oing in my lab without asking me."

Heph looked back at the camera. "Seriously, everyone. If you see something on late-night infomercials that seem too good to be true, DON'T BUY IT. We nearly lost the butt of a bunch of jokes and running gags because of it."

Larry scowled at Heph.

"No pun intended?" the cyborg said with a shrug.

*credits roll with the message "We might put the raw footage on DVD, but don't count on it."*

Hephaestus 1 looked around at his new surroundings. Moby and Tiny Thor were watching the passageway for any signs of distress.

"When Coolio had that song about a Fantastic Voyage, he was lying the entire time. Raquel Welch isn't here, either," Hephaestus 1 grumbled. "We have been totally lied to by the entertainment industry."

"Cease your prattling, thou mechanical mortal," Tiny Thor said, "for Tiny Thor is gazing for signs of our vaunted foe."

The crew stumbled and fell as the passageway shook and creaked.

"Oh dear," Mobius Knight said. "I did not volunteer for what is about to happen."

"I really don't want it to end like this, either, Moby," Heph said.

Tiny Thor pulled the mighty hammer from his belt. "Finally! The battle comes to Tiny Thor! I SHALL TURN YE BACK, FOUL CREATURES OF THE NETHER WORLDS! SO SWEARS THE MINIATURE SON OF ODIN, NOW IN CAPSULE FORM!"

The scene fades out and the eyecatch for "Serv'd!" appears.

JUST WHEN YOU HOPED IT WOULD GET NORMAL AGAIN.

SERV'D! NEW EPISODE THURSDAY 9PM EASTERN ON THE HERO CHANNEL

ENCORE PRESENTATION FRIDAY 10PM EASTERN ON A&E.