jchinds

*"Serv'd!" theme song, new montage, same great choral finish as always*

The big problem with dealing with Statesman is dealing with his ego... and his ego's attorney. The Stateslawncare featuring Statesgardener vs. Statesman issue did not end well. In fact, what was supposed to be just a simple cease-and-desist order turned into a nightmare of epic proportions. Eventually, the jury sided with Statesgardener just due to the insufferability of Statesman's ego. Back in the days of Zeus, he would have gotten his due. With today's juries being fed messages of "do the most damage to the biggest jerk in the courtroom" thanks to daytime television such as "Judge Judy & Executioner," you can be right to defend your intellectual property but still lose anyway.

For the crew of "Serv'd!" it was a day of high-quality entertainment. Hephaestus 1, Mobius Knight, Clem and Mitch walked out of the courtroom together.

"I got a little carried away, there," Heph said.

"You started a chant of 'JER-RY! JER-RY!' in the middle of closing arguments," Moby snapped. "Seriously! Who does that?"

"The judge liked it," Heph said with a hurt tone.

"I don't get why he threw his chair at Statesman's ego's lawyer, though," Clem said.

"Maybe Statesman's ego's lawyer is the real father of his six illegitimate children?" Heph asked.

Mobius Knight stopped. "How... how do you come up with situations like that, Heph? How is it that your mind works in such weird ways?"

Heph shrugged. "No idea, Moby. It just does."

While walking out to the truck, Heph's cellphone rang. Larry McGonigle had another assignment for them, this time in New Overbrook. They went back into the building and made their way back to the court liaison's office.

"I'd say I'm sorry to disrupt your day off, but I'm not," Larry said. "This has the potential to blow up fast."

"Narrow it down a bit, Lar," Heph said. "Lots of things around here have that potential."

"Here's your assignment: deliver a restraining order to one Captain Castillo of the Sky Raiders. He's been harassing Dr. Delilah Stein, one of the archaeological specialists in Faultline," Larry said as he dropped a stack of papers into Heph's hands.

"Sky Raiders? Aren't they a bit below our pay grade, Larry?" Moby asked.

Larry scratched the tip of his nose. "Yeah, but with my other teams working on other cases, you're it."

Heph sighed and put the papers into his messenger bag. "Right, we're off, then."

The drive into Overbrook wasn't too bad. With the obligatory stop at Drenched Donuts (Heph kept to many police traditions, this one being very important), they discussed a few things. After the doughnut stop, they moved on to the current whereabouts of one Doc Delilah.

As far as suitors go, Dr. Delilah Stein had many a man who was overtaken by her purple hair, her amazonian stature, and her huge... amount of published material. However, this one was a real loser. This Castillo guy was all kinds of wrong for her.

"Look, Luis," Doc Delilah said, "it's nice that you like to fight crime and play baseball, but come on, this is getting ridiculous!"

"No, no, doctora de mi corazon," Captain Castillo said, "I must have you as to for my own! Come with me to my flying aircraft carrier and we shall sail the skies looking for plunder."

"I thought you played baseball, Vinny?"

"I did. But that was... long, long ago, mi amor," Captain Castillo said. "Long ago when my handsome visage was part of the Major Leagues' Most Handsome Outfielders Ever. Yes, I was indeed the man who stole more hearts than bases."

"Uh-huh," Doc Delilah said.

"Someone of my ruggedly smooth good-lookingness could not be contained upon the field of center! I aspired to the heights that no man could attain in baseball, to have the best hair in the league. But no, they made me put it under a hat. A sweaty, stinky, hair-mashingly evil hat of the devil! A pox upon all hats!" the Sky Raider exclaimed. "Except of course, yours, Doctora Stein. Your hides the hair which almost is equal unto my very own!"

Doc Delilah smirked. "Gee, thanks, Fernando. So, no more outfield, huh?"

"No, I needed to experience a life sailing the skies and the taking of things which are not mine to have in the first place! The danger! The thrills!" Castillo said.

"The paperwork!" Hephaestus 1 added in the midst of Castillo's rant as he shoved the restraining order under Castillo's nose.

"Sì! The paperwork! The-" Castillo stopped and looked at the papers. "Hello, what are these homely-looking summons doing so close to my radiance?"

"It's a restraining order from Doctor Stein to you, Sparky," Mobius Knight said. "She's sick of your letters, your hounding her and all that."

"Ah, I see," Castillo said as he grabbed the papers. "Ah! Wait! Clearly, these are not for me, gentlemen of the law! For these orders are not engraved upon the finest ivory stock! These are... in triplicate! With carbon paper, no less! Such things may be acceptable for you common types, but one such as I, Captain Castillo of the Sky Raiders, must have only the best!"

"Right," Heph said.

"So, until this is done, I shall not accept such common paperwork! Instead, I shall await these silly little papers... and the lovely Doctora Stein... in my boudoir! AndnowItakemyleave!" the Sky Raider said as he shot into the air and out of sight.

"Well, that's just dandy," Moby said.

"I thought he was more of a fop," Heph said.

Mobius Knight shot his large cyborg partner a look of death. "You know what I meant. Now we need to track him down."

"Oh, that's easy," Doc Delilah said. "He's given me the map, GPS coordinates, and mailing address of his secret lair so many times it's not even funny." She handed the team a map. "Uhm, sorry it smells like Giorgio cologne. He douses the things he sends to me with it."

Moby took the map. "Yeah... it's... good grief, I can see the cologne wafting off of it. We'd better get over there fast. I also vote we keep the windows down so we don't smell like two-bit catamites."

"I hate to tell you, Moby, but that smells nothing like Lost Aberrants," Heph said. "It smells decent. A little on the side of man-pretty instead of handsome, but decent."

"No, that's Eremites, not catamites," Moby said. "They're-- oh, just get in the truck!"

Some people would not think a full-size SUV could fit in the Arachnos-built tunnels that linked the sides of the Paragon City Dam with each other, but those people would be both wrong and dumb. Of course, the Arachnos personnel weren't too pleased to see a giant SUV of Imminent Impact barreling down the tunnel at them, either. They either dodged or got smacked by the four-wheeler.

"Woohoo! Two more points!" Heph said as he bounced a Huntsman into a Drone.

"No, you aimed for him, you only get points if you keep the same course," Moby said.

"Your version of the game sucks, then," Heph said back. "It's like Greco-Roman Deathrace instead of Freestyle Deathrace."

"...yeah," Moby said. "You know, you have really got to stop watching movies from the 1970s, Heph."

"I do watch modern movies!"

"Movies with Will Ferrell in them don't count."

The SUV stopped in the tunnel. Heph's window rolled down and he grabbed the nearest Arachnos lackey in a headlock.

"YOU!" Heph shouted. "Tell my friend that Will Ferrell is a good comedy actor!"

"I- I-- I CAN'T!" the Wolf Spider said. "Anything but that!"

"TELL HIM!"

"No!" the Arachnos minion shouted. "Tell me to eat my own head if you must, but don't ask me to do the impossible!"

"But I like Will Ferrell movies..." Heph said dejectedly.

The Arachnos soldier looked at him. "Wow, I thought having a thing for sweaty Blood Widow bodysuits was bad, but you, sir, are a WEIRDO!"

Heph let the minion go. "Does no one here besides me appreciate that one man can make one character adaptable to any situation?"

"No," the others said in unison.

"Hmph. See how you like it when you don't get invited to the Oscars for his Lifetime Achievement Award," Heph grumbled. With that, the SUV roared through the tunnels and into the light again.

Eventually, the team made it across the reservoir to the Sky Raiders' lair. They parked right next to the building that was marked "Hacienda de Amor" and walked in.

Captain Castillo was sitting at an elegant desk and wearing a smoking jacket over a poofy shirt, a quill pen in his hand.

"My Adored Doctora Stein," he said out loud, "Many are the times I have wooed you, and many are the times you have rebuffed me. You know you cannot escape the fact that we are meant to be, for your heart sees my incandescent handsomeness and says 'Ay yi yi! Truly this is a man whose hair and grooming set him far above the likes of mortals!' It is true that my love for you is exceeded only by my radiant visage, yes, but then again, what is not? Let us..."

He turned to Heph and crew, not noticing that they weren't his usual staff of Sky Raiders. "Do I look more pensive like this--" he said, raising an eyebrow and holding his chin, "or like this?" he asked as he looked up to the sky, resting one side of his head on a hand and giving an affectation of boredom. "To write the perfect letter describing just how amazingly handsome I am requires the perfect-- oh, it is you plain law and order types again."

"Yeah," Heph said. "It's us. And we're here to give you your restraining order."

"No, take it away," Castillo said with a dismissive wave. "It does not deserve to be in the presence of such manly handsomeness without being perfect itself!"

"Sorry, you get the life of off-the-rack sameness the other stalkers get," Moby said.

"Off the rack? OFF THE RACK? I, Captain Ernesto Castillo de Nuñez de Las Unas de Los Dedos de Los Pies y Borracho-Flagrante do NEVER take things which are OFF THE RACK! For this," he said while grabbing a flamethrower, "for this we duel with flamethrowers! And my goodness I am a sexy beast when I am angry, am I not?"

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

"No," the said in unison as they punched him simultaneously.

Captain Castillo was knocked through a wall into his drawing room, where there were many portraits... of Captain Castillo. Some were paint, some were photographs, but all of them were the same: Captain Castillo sitting at a desk trying to look pensive.

"Ay! The room where I do all of my thinking and reading of the various catalogs for the purchase of well-tailored clothing and hair products! No one punches me into my sanctum sanctorum!" the Sky Raider leader said.

Heph stepped through the hole in the wall. "Let's see... whoa. Hey, Moby! Check this out! Someone thinks WAY too highly of himself!"

Moby popped his head through the wall. "It's egoriffic!"

"No one laughs at the many moods of Captain Castillo!" Castillo said as he tried to draw his flamethrower again. Heph swatted it out of his hands.

"Seriously, man, here's your orders. No going within 1000 yards of Doc Delilah. Failure to do so will result in you being arrested and sent to the jail where we send all the men who are too pretty for prison."

"Is it in Milan?"

"No, it's Ziggursky, just like everyone else," Heph said. "And... wait. What's that magazine on your chair there?"

"It's a catalog," Castillo said.

"Huh. International Male has a fashion line just for the Well-Dressed Air Pirate. Imagine that," Heph said.

"It could be worse, it could be Evil Serge or something," Moby said.

"It could be worse than that and be regular Serge," Heph replied.

"He has hands that are too cold for the inseam, yes," Castillo said.

Heph and Moby looked at each other again. "Ewww..."

*the screen fades to black and the credits roll*

*credits, opening music, "SERV'D!" etc.*

Hephaestus 1, Mobius Knight, and their faithful recording crew were seated around Larry McGonigle's desk which was covered in new photos of Fang and his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend.

"Okay, this is what I got through my sources," Heph began.

"If by 'sources' you mean 'I bribed some kids to pick through her garbage', that is," Moby replied.

"Well, did you expect me to do that?" Heph asked.

"I'm just saying that it might be going to excess to find out about Fang's new girlfriend is all," Moby replied.

Larry slapped his hand on the desk. "Listen! My werewolf nephew is currently in the arms of some woman who shouldn't even be giving him the time of day! Something is not right here! She's got to be up to something!"

"Well, I did find her name out, Lar, but you're not going to like it," Heph said. "It's going to feed that paranoia of yours bigtime."

"Oh just tell me," Larry said.

"Her name is Ilse von Wulfenschtuppen. She's a Ph.D. candidate in Electrical Engineering and working through college in the IT department of Paragon City's government offices," Heph said.

"Von WHAT? That's GOT to be a fake name! She's a spy of some kind!"

"Yeah, it is. She legally changed it to her mother's maiden name. Apparently her mother was Hansi von Wulfenschtuppen, a spy for the 5th Column in the 1970s. Ilse changed her last name because she was mercilessly teased in school about her last name."

"What was her last name?" Moby asked.

"Fahrtenberger," Heph said.

"Ooh... yeah, I'd change that name, too," Clem said.

"And I thought that 'Wackenhut' was bad," Earl chimed in.

"Anything else?" Larry said. "It sounds like she's using Fang for something! Her mother was a spy, after all!"

"Yeah, her criminal record's clean, she's a 36DD and goes to--" Heph said.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Moby interrupted. "How do you know her bra size?"

"One of the kids picked up a receipt that was from Victoria's Secret," Heph answered. "Like I was saying, she also works out over at the Steel Canyon Health Club. She apparently does a lot of weightlifting since this was a receipt for weightlifting gloves."

"My God, they're planning on killing my nephew with this girl, aren't they?" Larry asked.

"I don't think so, Larry," Moby said. "This is what I got from her computer. She IMs Fang a lot when she's at work. Here's the transcript," he added as he dropped a printout of dozens of conversations.

Larry picked them up and started reading. "Huh. She comes clean with him about her mother's past. They work out together, they... oh, that's something I can't un-read. Well, I think there's still some other nefarious reason she's dating him."

"Page eighteen, Larry," Moby said.

"It says 'You're the only one who doesn't fall all over himself when I'm around and doesn't put me on a pedestal.' That's it? He treats her like a normal woman? You've gotta be kidding me!" Larry shouted. He turned away and lit up his cigar. "There's got to be more to it!"

"Well, we could always run a stakeout, Lar," Heph said. "I don't want to do it, but if you're assigning us to it, we'd have no choice."

"No, I'll handle this investigation on my own! I need you guys to work on the caseload we've got. Has there been any progress on the Statesman/ Stateslawncare issue?" Larry asked.

"Yeah, we're going to take care of that today. Statesman really needs to look at some of those commercial licensing contracts he signs. I think I know where to catch him."

With that, the five men huddled together to go over their next plan.

"So lemme get this straight," Tommy Pachowski said over his beer, "they got zeppelins."

"Yup," Todd Galahad said. "Another pint of whatever's closest, please, Mr. DiFillippo," he added, motioning with his empty glass to the old man behind the KC Hall's bar.

The old man nodded. It might not be exactly legal for the two heroes to drink, seeing as how neither of them had turned the magical responsibility-bearing age of 21, but seeing as how the two young men put their lives on the line for the citizenry, he figured that some laws just don't need to be followed. He refilled the pint glass and set it down with a grin. "It's on yer tab, CC."

"So if they got zeppelins, an' they're pirates, an' they're good at avoidin' the authorities, how do ya stop 'em?"

Todd grinned. "Surface-to-air ninjas."

"But nobody is gonna write a song 'bout surface-ta-air ninjas!" Tommy said.

"Ninjas are strictly business," Todd said. "There isn't much to romanticize about their ability to sneak into places and kill people."

"What about them ninja women who seem ta wear nothin' under their outfits other than that mesh stuff?"

"That's not romance, Tommy," Todd said between drinks. "That's wishful thinking on your part."

"Oh," Tommy said as he finished his beer. "Well, there oughta be a law or somethin' requirin' hot ninja babes ta wear that at all times."

"The words 'ninja' and 'babe' don't make sense when strung together like that, Tommy. Remember, I'm related to them."

"Yeah, that's right. So what? I'm single, I can ask that kinda stuff," Tommy said, motioning for a refill. "I can ask questions about what women ninjas wear under their clothes."

The bartender shook his head. "Tommy, ya oughta know already considerin' yer last girlfriend."

"Yeah... I oughta know, shouldn't I?" the blue-haired cyborg said. "Well, I guess I do, but... ah, hell, I miss havin' her as my girlfriend."

"Well, maybe you should try again with her, now that she's got a better idea of why you were so stubborn about her not getting involved in the hero life," Todd said.

"I dunno, maybe there's somethin' there," Tommy said, draining another pint. "Or maybe I'm just hopin' fer somethin' ta appear where it can't anymore."

Todd shrugged. "Give it a shot, Tommy. It can't hurt."

*The opening credits for "Serv'd!" roll with the new opening theme as sung by Journey. Steve Perry does his usual vocal tricks with lots of "WHOOOOA-OHHHH-AAAAH-OHHHHH" filler.*

Hephaestus 1 and Mobius Knight rode into Atlas Park together, using the high-occupancy vehicle lane for Heph's modified SUV.

"We're going to get in trouble," Moby said. "We need more four people in this vehicle to use this lane."

"No we aren't," Heph replied. "It's you, me, Clem, Earl and the latest scofflaw who we served papers and is coming down for his court date, the musical robot known as MUDD-E."

"I-GOT-THE-#0000FFs-OH-LAWD-HELP-ME-I-GOT-THE-#0000FFs," MUDD-E sang as he adjusted his weatherbeaten porkpie hat. "I-GOT-THE-#0000FFs-SO-BAD-I-COULD-INCUR-CASCADING-VOLTAGE-LOSS-IN-MY-CPU."

Heph's cybernetic disbelief-sensing eyebrow raised up over his smaller visual sensor. "Wow. That's... uh, that song that you sang."

"Thank-you-thank-you-very-much-all-right-now-I-will-play-my-latest-hit-called-My-Female-Counterpart-Done-Left-Me. Would-you-like-to-hear-it-here-it-goes-MY--"

Moby pointed at the rapidly-appearing District Courts Building. "Ooh! Look! The Court Building!"

MUDD-E stopped singing. "Oh-well-that-is-show-business-for-you."

Heph nodded. "Yep. Show business is a dangerous and weird world."

"Mostly weird," Moby grumbled as he exited the now-stopped SUV. "I hate it. I just want normal criminals. Is it too much to ask for serving papers to normal people?"

"Hey, we're specialists, Moby," Heph said. "We handle the superheroes and villains that no one else can touch. You don't send normal people to Sebastian Frost's mansion to serve noise ordinance violations. You send people who are less likely to be caught, given cement overshoes and get thrown into the river."

"I'm normal," Moby said.

"No, no you aren't."

"I'm totally normal!" the sword-swinger said to his cybernetic teammate.

"Evil sword, magical girlfriend, strange dog--"

"Mr. Snugglesworth is not strange, Heph!" Moby shouted.

"Okay, he's unique," Heph said. "He seems smarter than your average pomeranian mix, though."

"At least my dog doesn't type out random IMs to me to let me know he's pooping."

"I told them not to do that anymore. After all, the Blackberry is a privilege, not a right. Though wouldn't it be nice to know he needs to go out before he craps on your floor?"

"Your cats seem kind of malicious about it, though."

"Well, yeah, they're cats," Heph said. "Malice is part of their sense of humor. It's why I get along with them so well."

"So, anyway, we'd better be getting over to Larry's office. He seemed kind of worried," Moby said. "I wonder what kind of stupidity we're dealing with this time?"

The two heroes walked towards the office when Moby turned his head quickly to the side. Something didn't seem right. It was as if the world was the one he knew, just turned 90 degrees off-axis. "Head on down to Larry's, Heph. I need to check on something," Moby said as he waved Heph off.

"Sure thing, man," Heph said, shrugging.

Mobius Knight walked calmly to a nearby window. He looked to the outside of the building where a certain werewolf was being dropped off for work. Fang was standing next to a nice sedan and waved at the driver. He smiled, and walked to his office whistling a happy tune... as well as can be expected for someone with a snout.

The swordsman was stunned. His mind was currently rebelling at the thought of a happy Fang.

Mobius Knight arrived a little late for the staff meeting, walking in during Larry's briefing. "Uh, sorry to come in late, guys, but I just saw the weirdest thing. Fang had this huge smile on his face."

Larry gave Mobius Knight a curt nod. "Thanks for finally joining us, and there's a good reason he has that smile on his face. Here's why," he said, slapping a stack of photo printouts on the table.

Everyone's jaw dropped except for Heph's, who instead had his "What the Hell?" eyebrow pop up over his main eye camera.

"This is impossible!" Clem shouted.

"It's just unnatural!" Earl cried out.

"Oh, good grief," Moby muttered.

Heph nodded. "Those are good reasons to be worried, Lar," he said.

The pictures showed Fang picnicking in Gemini Park with an athletic, Teutonic beauty of a blonde. For some reason the pictures appeared to be taken where Fang had the most obvious look of sheer rapture on his face and wherever the best angle of the woman's cleavage could be seen.

"Yes, that's right," Larry said. "Fang has a girlfriend. The world may not last for much longer."

*The screen fades to black with the words "To Be Continued" on it in white*

The vacation did a world of good for Tommy Pachowski. It was a working vacation, but who cares when you're taking part in the custom car show circuit? He was showing off his latest resto-mod, a 1972 Buick Grand Sport. The traditionalists hated it; the instrument panel, stereo system, and interior vinyl had all been replaced with better modern equivalents. No amount of detail on the engine, nor finding correct parts for body and engine restoration, nor finding the correct shade of red for paint would make them happy.

Tommy didn't really care at the moment. He was too busy enjoying life. The parties were... unique... to say the least. One minute he was talking to a graphic artist who helped build and drive a racer made from a P-47 belly tank, the next he was talking to a stripper with almost as many tattoos as he had.

Eventually, the tour ended and Tommy found his way home. The blue-haired cyborg eased the old Powerwagon and the car it towed out of a gas station on I-95 and headed north for home. His cellphone beeped a few times and he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Tommy?"

Tommy's voice darkened. "Oh, it's you, Saya."

"I, uh, need to tell you something."

"Lemme guess, you an' that art student callin' himself 'Bertrand Plastique' are gettin' engaged?" Tommy asked.

"No, that's not happening. Bert and I broke up."

"Oh. Sorry ta hear that," he said sarcastically.

"That's not why I called you. I called to say that you were right," Saya said. "My hand can't hold a pencil right now, Tommy. I broke six different bones in my hand last week fighting the Skulls. I'm not going to be able to make my deadlines, either."

Tommy sped up. "I'll be there soon."

Lousy breakup or not, Tommy didn't abandon anyone in need.

On the next "Serv'd!"

Mobius Knight arrived a little late for the staff meeting, walking in during Larry's briefing. "Uh, sorry to come in late, guys, but I just saw the weirdest thing. Fang had this huge smile on his face."

Larry gave Mobius Knight a curt nod. "Thanks for finally joining us, and there's a good reason he has that smile on his face. Here's why," he said, slapping a stack of photo printouts on the table.

Everyone's jaw dropped except for Heph's, who instead had his "What the Hell?" eyebrow pop up over his main eye camera.

"This is impossible!" Clem shouted.

"It's just unnatural!" Earl cried out.

"Oh, good grief," Moby muttered.

Heph nodded. "Those are good reasons to be worried, Lar," he said.

Catch "Serv'd!" Thursdays at 9pm Eastern on The Hero Channel, and encore presentations on A&E Fridays at 10pm Eastern.

Hours passed for Todd Galahad, the Cobalt Claymore. His mother had spent the better part of a day with Claire, doing who knows what to the girl's mind. Mother Aoi worked in emotional manipulation like Seurat and Renoir worked in pigments. Little dots, specks and smears that seemed unconnected at first would eventually coalesce in a portrait of her victim's worst fears mixed with their greatest desires. Her mind-breaking techniques worked often, and sometimes too well.

Mother Aoi stepped from the room where she was interviewing/interrogating/bullying/mindbending the youngest member of the Pachowski family. She raggedly wiped sweat away from her forehead and shook her head.

"I cannot recommend your student for further training, my beloved son. She cannot be a ninja despite her wish. Her wish to be a ninja is not strong enough. The reason is simple: she lacks the willpower to kill her foes with heartless regard for their lives. I cannot break that barrier in her mind!" The former ninja warlord smiled and raised her mask over her face. "At least your father's death was enough to break that for you."

Todd scowled. "Maybe so, Mom," he said, the last word sharpened to a razor's edge. "I still manage to keep it in check."

"Let me guess: if you ever lose your self-control, I'm sure to lose my head?" the woman said, a cruel smile evident from under the mask. "You're so much like your father when I left him. You can kill with the best of them, but would rather substitute mercy for what is best."

"And yet you still gave me control of the family," Todd said, his eyes locked with his mother's. "I've come to doubt your reasons for doing it. The shadows and the oni selected me, you said. There's something else I'm missing."

The nearly beatific smile never left Mother Aoi's face. "You might be missing something. You also might just be paranoid. I'll leave it to you to find out which is the truth." With that, she disappeared.

Todd went into the small room he used for Claire's earlier training. The young girl sat on the floor, her panoply of weapons arrayed in front of her.

"I can't be a ninja," Claire said. "I can't kill as easy as she wants me to kill people. It's wrong. I couldn't agree with her at all."

"You're giving up, then?"

"I don't want to, but I can't go any further." Claire looked up at her teacher. "This is nothing like the comics showed me, nothing like the heroes Tommy met in Harajuku, it's just wrong!"

Todd gave his student a tight-lipped smile. "There might be other ninja groups out there with different rules, different philosophies on training. You came to me, though, to learn the traditions from my mother's side of the family simply because you thought everyone who calls himself a ninja is a hero. We're not the heroic kind. Why do you think I don't spend any more time in the Rogue Isles than I have to, and only when I'm in an investigation?"

Claire looked at the blades in their wristguards. "Do you have to kill people over there?"

"Not if I can help it," Todd said as he looked away. "I said I'd tell you about the last time I had an apprentice foisted off on me. Do you still want to know about it?"

Claire stood up and gathered her gear. "I do, but is there any way you can train me to do more of the heroic side of what you know?"

The young man known to Paragon City as The Cobalt Claymore smiled. "You still want to learn to be sneaky and gather information, huh?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Fine. You mind working with a boy who's just a little ticked off at you right now?"

"Who's that?"

"You know, the one you keep taking over to that nasty coffee shop to play videogames."

"He took the job you offered him?" Claire asked.

"If he agrees, you can stay and learn alongside him. If not, well, seek out a new teacher. I'm not the only source of information out there."

The girl nodded. "Fine. So, do I still call you sensei?"

"No, you can cut that crap out right now. Instead you'll both learn and use the formal apprenticeship rules I had to follow." Todd pulled his mask over his face and raised the cowl on his cloak. "Speaking of rules, I've got to get back to the collection. Go home, Claire. Figure out what you want to do next." With a quick nod, he made his way to the spare room's door and disappeared.

The younger hero stood there as she rearranged her gear. She hoped she'd have a good answer for herself later.

Training was going along well for Claire. The quality of her reports got better as she began to wean herself off of technological gear and rely more on a notepad and pencil. Her raids on safehouses of Warriors and Tsoo helped her to train better with fighting in close, as the Cobalt Claymore demanded that she be able to fight without sustaining more than "three good hits" from her foes. The swordsman explained to her that when his father trained him, he was allowed only one good hit. The main reason for that was because unlike Claire, he didn't heal almost immediately. She was becoming an excellent scout and area surveillance expert.

"There's something that you'll have to learn as well, and that's how to socialize your way into good scouting positions," the Cobalt Claymore said. "I still have difficulty with that, so I called in a specialist."

"Socialize?" Claire asked. "Like shmoozing?"

"Kind of. It's tough for me to explain, though," her mentor said, looking around the spare room they used as a classroom in a way that said he was desperately trying to avoid a subject. "I'll let my resident expert explain it further."

"Who would that be?" Claire asked. She shook for a second, a shadowy chill crawling up her spine.

"Hello, son," Mother Aoi said as she stepped out of a shadow. "Is this your apprentice? Hmm. She certainly looks earnest enough. She reminds me a bit of the last apprentice you had under your supervision when you were in the Rogue Isles."

Claire shot the Cobalt Claymore a look. "You said you didn't take apprentices!"

"He doesn't, my duckling," Mother Aoi said. "I assigned an apprentice, a girl who was about your age named Tenko, to him when he worked for me. She died on his watch."

Claire paled a bit. "Really?"

The Cobalt Claymore nodded. "Yes. She had a death wish and decided to fulfill it on a mission. You don't have one that I've seen."

Mother Aoi grinned. "Using her as a moving shield was pure genius."

Claire's eyes widened.

"It wasn't completely like that, Claire, but that's a story I'll tell you later. Right now, Mother, you can start with your instruction." With that, the Cobalt Claymore took his leave.

"I do like messing with him," Mother Aoi said. "He's far more uptight than his father. And a far superior swordsman to his father as well. But now your training begins in the social side of being a kunoichi. You'll learn how to use your body language as a weapon as deadly as those blades on your arms."

"Social? I'm not going to start sleeping with guys for information, am I?"

"Not unless you want to," Mother Aoi said. "But you'll be limiting yourself as a weapon if you don't."

"A weapon? I thought we were scouts, spies and stuff like that."

Mother Aoi frowned. "Yes. I'd say that killing people, stopping political movements to keep dictators and various others in power, and overthrowing elected or unelected governments depending on who's paying would fall under 'stuff like that.' Todd's father was very good as such things. It's a pity he didn't teach them to his son."

Claire looked down at the floor. Suddenly she wasn't sure that the whole ninja thing was all it was cracked up to be.

*Mobius Knight, Clem and Earl walk into Hephaestus 1's apartment, where he's watching a cheerleading competition on ESPN*

Mobius Knight: Heph, aren't you a little old to be watching high school and college girls jumping all over the place?

Clem: Yeah, man, that's a little creepy.

Heph: Shut it, guys. I'm doing research.

Mitch: What, going to see if your girlfriend will dress like that for you?

Heph: Seriously, it's research.

*the scene cuts to Heph and Moby planning out a quick strategy while being pinned down by Arachnos gunfire*

Heph: Okay, Operative Biggles is about seventy-five meters behind those Crab Spiders who have us pinned down. I'll distract them with some new attention-getting techniques while you sneak past them and arrest Biggles.

Moby: Got it. I'll run once you've stepped out and gotten their attention.

*Hephaestus 1 leaps out from behind the wall, shoulder rolls into a fighting stance, then begins dancing... kind of.*

Heph: U-G-L-Y! You ain't got no alibi! YOU UGLY! YEEEAH, YOU UGLY!

*the screen cuts to black and credits appear in white letters*

SERV'D! Showing the secret of the perfect universal taunt.

Thursdays at 10pm ET on The Hero Network
Encore presentation on Fridays at 9pm ET on A&E

*the scene cuts back to Hephaestus 1, still doing his odd cheerleading routine*

Heph: Moby! Do the sneaking past thing while they're still shocked into inactivity!

Mobius Knight: Uhm... yeah...

*the scene fades to black again with the new Serv'd! eyecatch logo*

Large Choir (singing): SERRRRRV'D!

"I'm ready to begin, sensei." Claire Pachowski had spent weeks gathering up the things she thought she might need for tonight. She would have worn her costume under a loose shirt and pants, but when you can turn invisible you tend not to worry too much about being noticed. Her tactical belt pouches were stuffed to near bursting, with everything from first aid materials (for other people; she regenerated very quickly) to 100 feet of 550 cord to a rescue hammer and carabineers.

"You're sure about that?" the Cobalt Claymore asked.

"I've got all kinds of stuff here to go in and save the day," Claire said.

"You're not here to save the day, Claire. You said you wanted to be a ninja."

"Well, I wanted to be a heroic one," the young girl mumbled.

"First things first. What's in your utility belt?"

Claire fumbled throught the belt. "Nitrile gloves, antibacterial ointment, bandages and stuff for first aid. Then I've got an LED flashlight with a red filter, some of this paracord stuff, a can of silly string wrapped in electrician's tape for finding tripwires, my house key, my extra house key, ziplock bags and tweezers for gathering evidence, my cellphone and police comm unit. I'm pretty much set."

"Really," the blue-cloaked swordsman said.

She checked through her gear again. "Yes, really."

The Cobalt Claymore grinned. "Okay. Just remember, you will be tested on this stuff. If you fail at anything, I will have enough reason to end your training permanently."

"Anything?"

"Anything," the Cobalt Claymore said.

"Right, Master," Claire said.

"And if you insist on calling me that, call me 'Sensei' instead. 'Master' has too many improper connotations in this day and age."

"Yes, Sensei." Claire giggled on the inside. It was just like her dream a few months ago. She still wondered if she'd get something that marked her as a ninja when she completed his training.

The two heroes leapt into the moonlight towards Independence Port. "Follow me," the Cobalt Claymore said. "Tonight's training begins in Brickstown."

After a quick trip via tram to Brickstown, the Cobalt Claymore clapped his student on the back. "Right. Go to Building Six in the Zig's powerplant complex. Enter without being seen, and observe the breakroom for 30 minutes. Take note, the place is rigged to detect electronic systems so you'll have to leave your electronic devices with me."

"What?" Claire said, startled. "Why can't I take them?"

"You'll trigger a bunch of alarms. That's bad. It might summon the police, it might summon one of Crey's goon squads. I don't know for sure," the blue-cloaked hero said. "Either way, no electronics."

"How am I going to be able to get info to you in real time, though?" Claire asked.

The Cobalt Claymore pulled back a glove and checked his watch. "Time is running short, Claire."

"But-"

"Do you want to fail on your first mission?"

The young girl faded from view and shot out of the tram platform as if launched by a cannon. The Cobalt Claymore leapt up to the roof to scan for signs of trouble, Claire's dataglasses, cellphone and police scanner in a bag at his side. Finding no trouble, he sat down and opened up a book.

----

Claire found Building Six in the powerplant complex and watched for signs of anyone exiting or entering. A security guard walked up to the main door and waved a card over a small gray box next to the door. A loud click let her know the door unlocked and she watched as it popped outward. The girl stepped towards the doorway, hoping to follow him in until she noticed that he still held on to the door to close it behind him. Claire took a step back into the shadows and watched for a better opportunity. About ten minutes later, the guard returned and pushed open the door to go back outside. This time, he gave a slight shove to the door which wobbled a little as its automatic closing arm resisted being pushed faster than it wanted to go. The guard stepped away and Claire made her move. She slipped inside the building unnoticed.

Once inside, the young girl looked for a map or signs leading to the breakroom. She stepped quietly, listening for any sign of activity that would take her to her observation spot. A thumping noise, followed by the ripping metal and pop of a soda can alerted Claire to her surroundings. Still invisible, she poked her head around quickly. An older man in coveralls and a Boston Red Sox cap took a sip from a can of Pepsi as he stood by the soda machine. Another security guard sat at a dilapidated lunch table, its Formica cover peeling away from the chipboard underneath. He took a bite of his sandwich and swallowed.

"Tell yer wife thanks fer the egg salad recipe. Margo says this is better'n hers," the guard said. "I'm inclined ta agree, an' Margo had a good recipe ta begin with."

"I'll tell her, Dewey, don't worry," the man in coveralls said. "Times are looking tough for the Sox, huh?" he asked as he sat down and opened his lunchbox. "This damn diet's gonna kill me. The doctor says I have an inflamed small intestine, so I can't eat anything spicy for a while. So I've got peanut butter again."

"Sucks ta get old, don't it, Mac?" the guard said around his sandwich. "Hey, yer gettin' ready fer retirement, aren't ya? You an' I joined up 'bout the same time, an' I'm lookin' ta punch outta here permanently in October. Thirty years is long enough, am I right?"

The man in the hat and coveralls grinned. "You set a date already? Well, I can't blame you. I was going to go for thirty-five, myself. I figure I'll hit sixty-five and retire then."

"Eh, I got some travellin' ta do before I start Social Security. Margo wants a trip ta Aspen. Aspen! She don't even like snow an' she wants ta go ta Colorado!" the guard said.

"Women, gotta watch when they get something stuck in their minds. They'll make you do it one way or another." The coverall-wearer raised his soda can. "To women. We understand them enough, but love them anyway."

The guard raised his cup of coffee. "Hear hear, Mac."

After thirty minutes of banalities, Claire had all she could stand and left, retracing her steps to the doorway. Even the way out had a card lock on it, so she had to wait for someone leaving. She made her way back quickly.

She found the Cobalt Claymore huddled up reading a book on the roof of the tram stop. A quiet tap was all she made on the entry ramp, then a slightly louder one as she set foot on the roof.

"So, what did you see?" the Cobalt Claymore asked his student.

"I saw that the building is tough to get into. You need a card to open the door. There's no sign showing where the breakroom is, but there's a Pepsi machine there. It's pretty loud so you can just follow the sound," Claire said.

"Go on. What else?"

"Well," Claire said, "at the moment, there's two old guys in there having lunch."

"Describe the old guys," the swordslinger instructed.

"Well, one's a security guard. He's kind of pudgy, is bald, and apparently likes egg salad. The other guy, I don't know what he does, but he wears coveralls and a baseball cap."

"Okay, keep going. What else did you see?"

"Uhm, the clock in the breakroom is made by West Bend, and the two men in the breakroom have been working there for almost thirty years. They talked about their wives and being old, mostly," Claire said.

"Anything else?"

"It wasn't important, just general old guy talk."

The Cobalt Claymore frowned at that. "Is that all you've got?"

"Oh!" Claire said. "You need a key card to get out, too."

"Anything else?" the older hero said, still frowning.

"Nothing I can think of," Claire said, shrugging.

"Well, you passed, but barely," the Cobalt Claymore said. "You got me some information on who was there, what they were doing, what kind of security measures are available. You didn't give me any further descriptive information about the security guard's uniform. What color was it? What about the guy in coveralls? What color were the coveralls, and what about his baseball cap?"

"Why would you want all that?"

"Claire, you're learning to be a spy and a scout. That's one of the regular jobs of a ninja. You've still got a ways to go on information-gathering."

Claire pouted. "You took away all my recording stuff! I can't remember all of that!"

"You don't have to. There's another way to record things like this," the Cobalt Claymore said.

"Yeah, what?"

"How about a notebook and pencil or pen?" the older hero asked. "You can draw a quick map with it, take down descriptive notes, and a few other things, too."

"Oh," Claire said, crestfallen.

"You brought back some useful information. But you didn't bring back enough information. That's fine for this run, but the next time, use this," the Cobalt Claymore said as he handed Claire a small notepad and pen. "Keep this on you at all times. Take lots of notes, always. Even if you can't use the data immediately, you might have use for them in the future. You've done a barely adequate job, Claire. I expect to see better results the next time."

Claire chewed on her lip. At least she was going to have a next time, so the training would continue.

Larry called the "Serv'd!" team together in his office. A huge stack of subpoenas lay on his desk, with a brick holding them down as a paperweight. Larry ran his hand through his thinning hair, swearing as he burned his scalp with the cigar he was holding. Mobius Knight snickered.

"Larry, use the other hand," Mobius Knight said. "It still works, right?"

"Yes... ow... dammit."

"Okay, so what's with the big stack of papers, Larry?" Hephaestus 1 asked. "Are we serving papers on an entire neighborhood?"

"No," Larry said. "Just one specific club. SAC."

"SAC?" Heph asked. "Smash All Clowns?"

"We should be so lucky," the court liaison said. "You guys will be serving the Society of American Catgirls."

Heph's cybernetic "You've gotta be kidding me" eyebrow popped up. "Catgirls."

"Yes."

Mobius Knight rubbed his eyes. "Why us? I thought Porter and Hazlett were on the catgirl beat."

"They were," Larry said, "but I had to pull them from that duty. All of these summons on the desk are those two morons' backlog."

"What, they haven't been doing their job?" Heph asked.

"No, they seem to find themselves distracted whenever they go there. Something about naked catgirls, claws, fur, estrogen and such."

"Okay," Mobius Knight asked, "Why us?"

"Easy," Larry said. "Both of you are in committed relationships."

"So you're saying we got this assignment because we're whipped?"

Larry nodded. "To put it bluntly, yes. Moby, you're in a stable relationship as far as heroes go, and Heph, you just don't want to be set on fire."

Mobius Knight had a quizzical look on his face. "Uhm, who actually does want to be set on fire as part of their relationship?"

"Look, neither of you are single and looking, so you should have a better chance of resisting their feminine charms," Larry said.

Heph leaned back in the reinforced chair, putting his hands behind his head. "Well, I guess we just drop this off with the first catgirl we see and call it good, right?"

"No, you'll need to deliver them to Mynx when she shows up there for the meeting tonight," Larry answered.

"Tonight?" Heph said, startled.

"Yes, tonight, is that a problem for you, O'Flannagan?" Larry growled.

"Well, I was going to test my latest batch of beer tonight with my adorable little alien pyromaniac girlfriend," Heph said. "There would be beer. And snoo-snoo, as it were."

"Brain... hurting!" Moby said.

Larry paled visibly. "You sent my mind to a bad place, O'Flannagan. Never do that again."

"Fine, I will never mention snoo-snoo... with the woman I love... ever again," Heph said, pausing for effect to drive the mental image further into their minds.

"Wait for it," Moby said as a warning to Larry.

"This week," Heph said confidently.

Larry's head sank. "You're getting predictable, O'Flannagan."

Hephaestus 1 shrugged. "I'm a creature of habit, what can I say?" He picked up the large stack of papers and slid them into a courier bag. "I feel like I'm riding the morning Daily News route again," he said as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

"Nice man-purse there, Heph," Mobius Knight said.

"Shut up or I'll hit you with it," Heph shot back. "Or worse, make you wear it. Let's go."

The drive to the Society of American Catgirls meeting hall was short as it was at the north end of Skyway City. Heph looked around for a parking space and found one about a block away. "For Monday morning, this is pretty good," Heph said to the camera. "Everyone is at work now, and you're lucky to find on-street parking anywhere around here." Heph grabbed the courier bag and headed towards the meeting hall with Mobius Knight.

The meeting hall stood out against most of the businesses here. A driveway led right up to a well-lit car port, including a red carpet to the door. The red velvet ropes served to cordon off the carpet from the pavement. A large man near the door wearing all black, sunglasses and a cellphone earpiece monitored the two heroes, scowling the entire time. He scowled a little less when he noticed that Heph was still a head-and-a-half taller than him, and scowled even less when he saw Moby's katana in its scabbard.

"You guys ain't got business here," the doorman said with his Yards accent in full swing. "If ya want in, ya gotta wait until the show starts. An' ya gotta have ID."

Heph's cybernetic eyebrow raised over his larger eye. "Listen to this joker, Moby," he said as he pulled out his badge. "I'm with the Rhode Island District Courts, and I'm here to serve some paperwork to Mynx. Something about noise ordinance violations."

"Tough," the doorman said. "Ya got no business here. Scram."

"Make us," Heph said.

In an instant both heroes found themselves in a fountain a block away.

"Huh, what do you know?" the big blue cyborg said. "He made us scram."

"Yeah, he did. Now I'm going to make him regret that," Mobius Knight said.

"No blood! That way lies very bad things!" Heph said waving his hands in front of him.

"It'll be just a little blood, he won't miss it! Honest!" Moby said.

The two heroes returned where the doorman stood with a smirk on his face. "Back for more, huh? What've I gotta do, wish inta a cornfield or somethin'?" he said.

"No, you've just got to-" Mobius Knight said as the two heroes were teleported back into the fountain.

"- DIE DIE DIE!" the swordsman shouted as he drew his katana and cut through a statue of a water spewing cherub. He blinked. "Gah! I hate involuntary teleportation like that!"

"Round three, I think," Hephaestus 1 said.

The two heroes returned to the meeting hall one more time. The footsteps made the usual wet squelching noises that you'd hear from waterlogged shoes and socks.

The doorman grinned. "I knew you guys'd be back, an' that was even without my psychic powers!"

"So you're a mind-reader, too, I take it?" Mobius Knight asked.

"Yes, and if ya try that, I'll wish ya inta Lusca's favorite huntin' spot," the doorman said . "I'm readin' yer mind so don't even think 'bout drawin' that sword."

"Yeah, well, read HIS mind!" Mobius Knight said as he pointed at Hephaestus 1.

The doorman looked over at Hephaestus 1. "Sure. I figure that lack'a flesh is gonna make it easy ta-" the doorman stopped, his grin turning to slack-jawed horror. Then he clutched his head, fell to his knees and screamed, blood trickling from his ears and nose. He finally stopped screaming and fell to the pavement unconscious.

Heph shook his head as if out of a daze. "What? WHAT?"

"I don't know what you were thinking when he read your mind, but that must have been bad."

"I can't tell you because I made a promise earlier today not to talk about it anymore," Heph said, folding his arms and nodding.

"Oh my God, what do you two DO?" Mobius Knight asked, forgetting for a moment that he normally didn't want an answer for this question.

"Nothing that's any different that anyone else. Chances are we're actually pretty boring compared to you and your fiancee. You guys are the ones who freak out over it," Heph said. "Yes I know the size differential makes it seem brain-breaking, but there's ways around it. Now look, I don't want to talk about it any more right now. I just want to get these papers delivered."

The doorman just lay on the ground curled up in a ball mumbling "The bacon... the horror..." over and over again.

With that, the two heroes stepped into the meeting hall of the Society of American Catgirls.

"Be on guard. Hot naked catgirls may attack us at any moment, Moby," Heph said doing the "ooh scary" wiggling fingers signs.

"You, know the place smells really clean, too," Mobius Knight said.

"Well, cats are pretty fastidious."

"But they use litter boxes," Moby said.

"Uhm, Moby, man, I hate to break it to you, but they're not that feral. I'm sure that even the ones who were cats before they got turned into near-humans took some basic classes on human hygiene or something," Heph said. "I mean, they've got to have some kind of course on soap and water, right?"

Heph swung open the door to find a horde of conservatively-dressed catgirls in nice pantsuits and dresses, having a mid-morning tea social.

"Well, this is a fantasy-breaker for the hormonal young men out there, isn't it?" Heph said to the camera. He turned to the assembled felinoid throng. "Excuse me, is Mynx here? I have a bunch of paperwork to deliver to her."

Mynx popped up from her seat, wearing some kind of little black cocktail dress. "Yes, what's the problem?"

"We've got some notices to appear for the entire Society," Mobius Knight said, flashing his court liaison service badge. "Something to do with a series of noise ordinance violations."

Mynx pouted. "That stupid Mrs. Smithington, she's behind this. Ever since we started holding singing competitions for Paragon Idol, she's complained about the noise."

"Oh," Hephaestus 1 said. "You had some real yowlers in here, huh?"

"We don't use the word 'yowlers' here," Mynx said. "It's offensive. Like calling you a 'geargrinder'."

"I don't even get that one," Heph said.

"How about a '10110101110100' then?" the city's most prominent catgirl said.

"If I was a robot, I'd be mad at you, but I'm a cyborg," Heph answered. "I have to remember that, though, in case it ever comes up for litigation for a member of COMMA."

"Well, we were about to have another contest. Would you like to stay and listen to some of our singers who are auditioning?"

Heph shrugged. "Fine, but here's the paperwork. You'll need to start signing here, and finish here. The court dates are listed here and here."

Mynx frowned. "That's a large stack of papers."

"Our regular service agents haven't been able to deliver them," Mobius Knight said.

"I wonder why not?" Mynx asked.

A catgirl stepped up onto the stage in front of a microphone. She began singing, sounding like a drunkard scratching her nails on a chalkboard. The other catgirls stood up and cheered.

"We... gotta go," Heph said as Mobius Knight put his ears over his hands. Both of them walked out quickly with the signed paperwork.

The drive back to Larry's office was punctuated only by a short stop at the Up-N-Away drive-thru. They returned with lunch and sat down to eat.

"So, it was for lousy singing and not due to there being a horde of naked, oversexed catgirls?" Larry said. "Huh. I wonder why the guys refused to drop the papers off, then?"

"They probably couldn't make it past the doorman. He's a psychic who teleports people away from the premises." Moby said.

"How did you get past him?" Larry asked.

"I had him read Heph's mind," Moby said, grinning under his mask.

"Well, that explains the complaint of mental cruelty we just got from Psychic and Psionic Benevolent & Protective Association," Larry said.

"What? I was only thinking of me and--"

"Stop it!" Larry and Mobius Knight shouted in unison.

The screen faded out and the credits rolled to the soothing sound of Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind."

*We see two robots riding horses through a field of flowers*

Robot 1: "Query: Does Creator-Unit-1-Beta have operating cycles where Creator-Unit-1-Beta feels... gritty?"

Robot 2: "Affirmative. Suggest Update-Model-Unit-5 use new Ultraslik Graphite Lubricant Gel. Ultraslik reduces wear on parts by 35% over regular lubricants and maintains its properties down to -30 degrees Celsius, which is more than appropriate for this climate. Also, Ultraslik does not attract particulate matter like the leading lubricant, so there's no gritty sensation to upset one's sensors."

Robot 1: "Ultraslik Graphite Lubricant Gel. I shall purchase some and use it tonight as part of my daily maintenance routine. Thank you for the suggestion."

*Hephaestus 1 appears on the screen as the robots ride away.*

Heph: "Let's face it, Mecha-Americans, there are days when you'll get that little bit of sand stuck in a finger joint and it just drives you up the wall! Take a tip from those two robots, though, and try Ultraslik! I use it between any moving surfaces that will be exposed to dust, sand, salt spray and more. Try it at your next interim maintenance and feel the difference!"

*Ultraslik Graphite Lubricant Gel. Because Robots Don't Like to Feel Gritty.*

Todd Galahad, known better to the world as The Cobalt Claymore, and Tommy "Back Yard Boom" Pachowski stepped into the once-off-limits Midnight Club.

Tommy wasn't particularly impressed. "Meh. Books," he said. "So, it's a library an' a social club. Not really my idea'a-- Todd? Hey, snap outta it, big guy!" he added, waving his hand in front of Todd's face.

"It's... beautiful!" Todd whispered reverently as he scanned all the bookshelves.

Inside Todd's mind, though, he was sliding down a cartoon rainbow with Butter Brickle Alpha and Ninja Princess Mai of "Happy Pony Rainbow Squad: The Midnight Directive."

"Whee! It's like a little slice of Heaven here on Earth!" Todd said to his equine companions. "I can read and research and hang around with adventurers who can still use the phrase 'Pip, pip, old chap' without irony!"

"There's a whole world of fun and learning awaiting you in the Midnight Club, Todd! Let's enjoy the ability to gather information from primary sources!" Ninja Princess Mai said, her hooves making no noise on the rainbow. They made no sound so everyone could hear the background music of "I Love the Flower Girl" by the Cowsills.

"Yay! Learning just became more awesome!" Todd shouted as the trio slid off the rainbow into a happy smiling cloud that bounced them into a magical castle. They landed in front of a smiling mustachioed professor with a crown on his mortarboard. The professor adjusted his monocle.

"Pip, pip, old chap! This is a capital occasion to have you in our humble land of learning. Capital, I say!" the professor said from under his walrus-like mustache.

"Cheerio, King of Professors!" Todd said.

"Ninja Princess Mai and I are really just thinly-disguised cartoon versions of your parents, Todd!" Butter Brickle Alpha said. "Someone within Malta is using our cartoon visages to re-tell the tales of Malta's more questionable actions!"

"I know and it's awesome!" Todd said with a wide grin. "I could spend the rest of my life here!" the young hero said.

"No, seriously, kid, there's a crisis coming down the pike and this series was made so you could at least begin to recognize the signs," the pony Gunslinger said from under his balaclava.

"Learning is awesome!" Todd said as the professor-king removed Todd's old dark blue Gunslinger's hat and replaced it with a mortarboard.

"Hmm, yes," the professor-king said. "By the authority invested in me, I knight you Sir Todd of Edutopia! Quite cricket, yes. Hear hear, eh wot?"

"Edutopia is the happiest place on Earth!" Todd said.

Tommy shook his blue-hatted friend back to reality. "Todd! Are ya in there, big guy?"

Todd blinked, looked around and re-focused. "Oh, uh, yeah. It should be a pretty good research library for us history majors, I guess."

The metal-armed freshman looked at his older friend. "By the way, where the heck is Edutopia?"

Tommy "Back Yard Boom" Pachowski wanted to leap up from his chair and run around the table screaming. His latest date wasn't turning out so well. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty or witty or bright. She just kept talking about swords. There was also talk of swords, and oh, did she mention that she liked swords?

"So, anyway, I told Crimson that I wasn't going anywhere without the custom sword I got from Midnight Forge. The balance was just too good!"

Oh yeah, she also talked endlessly about her ex-boyfriend. It's not like they had much of a relationship, apparently: passing notes, a quick kiss here or there, kicking evil's butt in the Rogue Isles. Oh yeah. And swords.

"I just loooove the filligree that Hephaestion added to the guard. It's a simple geometric pattern, sure, but it's still aesthetically pleasing."

Tommy had tried earlier to counter all the sword talk with car talk, but got the "my subject is clearly more interesting than yours because you're just a stupid man" look. He sighed raggedly and listened.

"Tommy," Indigo said coldly, "are you paying attention to anything I've said?"

"Yeah, ya like the foldin' patterns that Hephaestion used ta give a damascus pattern ta high-speed steel. No one ever does that these days."

"Well, don't you like metallurgy?" the agent asked.

"Yeah, an' the process is pretty neat."

"But you don't like swords."

"Not as much as you," Tommy said. "Cars are more my thing."

"Cars are so boring,though!" Indigo snapped. "How can you compare machines to something as elegant as a well-forged sword, or even caltrops or shurikens or other pointy metal things?"

"I just ain't inta weapons like I am cars. Sure, they're neat. But they ain't cars."

"I didn't know you were a pacifist, Tommy," Indigo said. "I thought you were known for protecting your turf."

"Look, I'm no pacifist, either. Swords just don't trip my switch, all right?"

Indigo didn't need to roll her eyes, Tommy could feel it anyway. She went into another "there I was" story with her, Crimson and special guest star Swordy McSwordersword. He wished that he hadn't picked the Confidential Sources bistro for dinner. The place was shielded to the point of not being able to get any calls through to patrons. That way they could sit in peace and enjoy their meals. He could really go for a police call. Instead, he just nodded and smiled.

Their steaks arrived and finally Indigo shut up about swords. Of course, this didn't mean that she wouldn't immediately start complaining about her steak knife and how useless it would be as an improvised weapon in a fight. Finally, Tommy had enough. He might not be able to finish the rather delicious steak in front of him, but at least he'd be free. He dropped his silverware to his plate with a clatter.

"Ya wanna know somethin'?" Tommy asked. "I feel like I'm datin' the freakin' Cobalt Claymore here. That just ain't right! He does the same thing, goin' on an' on 'bout swords, knives, his problems an' what he does ta take care of 'em. I figured 'hey, why not date someone who went through a lousy breakup, too?' an' I wound up here. Do ya hear me talkin' bout Saya?"

"No," Indigo said.

"Right, that's 'cause I'm here ta date you. I know more 'bout Crimson than Crimson knows 'bout himself! So, fer the sake'a my sanity, I gotta leave! I don't wanna listen to ya badmouthin' yer ex all night an' I don't wanna listen ta sword talk, either."

Indigo dabbed her lips with her napkin. "Fine. That's just fine. Let's finish our steaks."

"I can't. You'll start talkin' 'bout swords again," Tommy grumbled as he got up. He motioned to the waiter to bring over the ticket, paying for it and sending his apologies to the chef that the steak was good but his date killed all the flavor.

Indigo caught up to him within seconds. "You are not walking out on me!"

Tommy just shrugged and got into his car. "This date ain't salvageable. I don't wanna hear any more crap 'bout swords, an' I'm goin' home so I can get away from it."

He tuned in to the Red Sox game and drove back home, leaving Indigo at the restaurant. Frankly he didn't care if anyone noticed or not.

Hephaestus 1 and Mobius Knight sped down the roads of Steel Canyon, following a train of PPD squad cars. The heavily-modified Ford Explorer managed to keep up with the cars despite the sharp turns in getting to The Wizard's Starship Comics and Games store. Moby held on to the reinforced bar as the SUV swerved and began to ride on two wheels. Heph brought the truck back down as the camera bounced widly in the back of the truck.

"I used to drive like this all the time on my way to calls, Moby!" Heph said to his katana-slinging sidekick. "You'd be surprised at how maneuverable vehicles really are!"

Mobius Knight for his part tried to stay calm. "Heph, this isn't some kind of actual dangerous felon, this is OH MY GOD CAR!!!" he shouted as the SUV went up on two wheels again, nearly rolling into a parked BMW. "This is only I EAT PASTE MAN!"

"Yeah, and if he ever gets clued in to his summoning power we could be in big trouble!" Heph said as the SUV screeched to a halt. "Here we are! This is where he's holed up!"

"Well, if I was a comic book geek, I'd want to be holed up here as well!" Moby said. "Let's go get this criminal damage thing taken care of!"

"Hey, Moby," Heph yelled, "why are we still shouting? We're not talking over a roaring engine anymore!"

"I don't know!" Mobius Knight said.

Eventually, the two stopped yelling and made their way over to Fang's squad car. Fang and Sergeant Murphy, his field training supervisor, were outside the car, putting together a plan of action.

"Hey guys," Heph said. "Are we ready?"

"Now that you and Moby are here, yes," Sergeant Murphy said. "We'll need you to help us out in case he has any superpowered friends with him."

"Barry has friends?" Moby asked.

Fang sniffed. "Actually he doesn't. He tends to alienate everyone with his attitude, scent, and deliberate lack of social graces." The miniature werewolf looked over the floorplan of the comics shop. We've got to keep his hands on top of the counter. If he opens up any of the card game packs, we're doomed."

"Wait, he can summon these things off of the cards?" Moby asked.

"Yeah," Heph said. "He crashed the police academy graduation ceremony with some kind of giant robot creature."

"Strongulon the Metal Ravager," Fang added.

Mobius Knight looked at Fang. "You actually know the creature he summoned?"

The werewolf shrugged. "When you're a four-foot tall werewolf who gets picked on at school, you tend to start focusing on anything around you that isn't school-related. I picked manga and role-playing games instead of sports. Werewolves are always just naturally in shape, so why bother going out for sports?"

Heph nodded. "Yep, he's right. I could have picked up D&D at his age, but instead I went with general troublemaking, political violence, and assisting rabble-rousers."

Mobius Knight looked at the two other heroes. "Am I the only one with a normal life in high school?"

Heph looked at Mobius Knight. "Yes. Just you."

Fang looked at his two fellow heroes. "The guy who owns the store, Bill, is usually a good guy. I mean, he banned Barry, who is his older brother, from going in there." His nose twitched. "And I also need to pick up my comics from last week. I need to see what happened to Captain Booyah in the last issue of The Inappropriates."

"All right," Sergeant Murphy said, "We've got our people in place. Let's go get these warrants served."

Heph led the charge as normal, flinging open the door and blocking the path of anyone aiming firearms at the front door. "All right, I EAT PASTE MAN, your reign of stupid terror ends today!"

A flannel-clad lump sat on the barstool behind the sales counter of The Wizard's Starship. This lump was flanked by two rather nicely-built elven women in... well, not much. An attempt to spin around on the barstool failed because it wasn't a swivel model, so the giant lump was forced to scoot around bit by bit. Slowly, the features of I EAT PASTE MAN revealed themselves. In one hand was a hanging file folder with the name "FANG" written on the tab. In the other, a current copy of Archie.

"OH NO, WHATEVER WILL HAPPEN TO FANG AND THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO MADE FUN OF ME, I EAT PASTE MAN?" Barry said as his elven eye-candy nodded and smiled approvingly. "I AM- I AM TOTALLY AN EVIL NINJA MASTERMIND AND- AND THIS PROVES IT, AM I RIGHT? HUH?"

Heph wished he could have scowled. "Barry, not even you can be this stupid. For one, putting a kids' comic book into Fang's folder won't do anything, and two, I know real ninjas. Moby here is more of a ninja that you'll ever be!"

"Yeah!" Mobius Knight said enthusiastically as he drew his katana. "I am definitely a ninja compared to-- wait. What?"

"Just roll with it, man," Heph said.

"NUH-UH! HE'S NO NINJA! HE- HE DOESN'T HAVE AN OFFICIAL LIMITED EDITION STEEL PLATED HEADBAND OF THE VILLAGE HIDDEN IN LEAVES! HE'S NO NINJA! I HAVE ONE AND MY SUMMONING POWERS MAKE ME EVEN COOLER THAN MOST OTHER NINJAS!"

Fang shrugged. "Barry, go ahead, put the comic in my file. I'll just ask Bill to take it out."

"NO! YOU GET A SUBSCRIPTION TO ARCHIE THAT LASTS TOTALLY FOREVER!" I EAT PASTE MAN, the Plaid Prince of Perniciousness himself, said with a chubby-fingered flourish. "EVERYONE IS GONNA LAUGH AT YOU BECAUSE THEY'RE- THEY'RE GONNA THINK YOU LIKE READING ARCHIE!"

Fang shook his head. "Last year, that would have bothered me, Barry. This year, things are different. Go ahead, set up the subscription that lasts 'totally forever'," he said, even using the air quotes gesture sarcastically, "I'll just get Bill to take it off later."

Heph and Mobius Knight looked at each other. "Air quotes," they said simultaneously. "He used air quotes."

"Truly he has learned at your knee, Heph," Mobius Knight said.

"I'm weeping silent tears of joy on the inside. I'm so proud of him!" Heph replied.

"HA HA! CHECK AND MATE, MISTER LUBAWICZ!" Barry said. "BILL ISN'T HERE!"

"What?" the three heroes said.

"HA HA! I WAS ONCE- I WAS ONCE THE STUDENT, BUT NOW I AM THE MASTER, AM I RIGHT? RIGHT? HA HA! NOW I CONTROL YOUR DESTINY! IT'S NOTHING BUT ARCHIE FROM HERE ON OUT! BECAUSE- BECAUSE I AM THE BOSS NOW!" Barry turned to his two elven companions. "SO, LADIES, WHO WANTS TO GIVE BARRY A RUBDOWN?"

The two elves were less than enthused.

"DON'T FORGET WHO SUMMONED YOU," Barry said, "FOR I EAT PASTE MAN IS A SENSITIVE OVERLORD! I CAN TOTALLY UNSUMMON YOU!"

Heph walked to the counter and slapped the criminal damage summons on the counter. "This is for your damage to the City of Gyros statue. They paid a lot of money for Gyrobber, and you're going to pay them back. Here's the time, the place and courtroom. We'll make sure you get there because Fang is taking you in on charges of assaulting a police officer with a licensed corporate character's likeness."

"NUH-UH! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME GO! SAY HELLO TO MY GIANT FRIEND, GLAZEY THE DOUGHNUT!" With that, I EAT PASTE MAN slapped another card on the table with a picture of Drenched Donuts' mascot taped over the original monster. The words "BUT REALLY REALLY BIG" were scrawled on the card in blue pen.

A rumbling noise emanated from outside as a giant glazed doughnut rolled its way through Steel Canyon, stopped in front of the store, and roared.

Mobius Knight slapped I EAT PASTE MAN's hand, causing him to lose contact with the card. With a squeak, Glazey disappeared.

"NO! BAD VILLAIN! NO DOUGHNUT!" Moby yelled. "I have HAD IT with YOUR crap, Barry!"

Barry's jowls quivered. "WHAT?"

"You're using your power for Dumb, not even for Evil!" Moby said. "I can't abide by ANYONE using their powers for dumb! And where's your younger brother, the one who runs the place?"

"HE- HE COMES IN LATE ON WEDNESDAYS SO HE CAN WORK UNTIL 9 PM," Barry said as the two elves disappeared as well, "BECAUSE IT'S NEW COMICS DAY."

"And as for the ninja thing, STOP IT. I know too many ninjas-" Mobius Knight said.

"YOU KNOW NINJAS?" Barry said.

"Ninjas who will kill you for mocking them. Ninjas who have non-ninja friends who will kill you for mocking their friends. Even ninjas who read comic books and come in here on a regular basis will hunt you down for insulting them," Mobius Knight said. "You will stop this crap RIGHT NOW."

"DUDE, LET ME MEET YOUR NINJA FRIENDS!" Barry said, oblivious to the threat of imminent death by ninja.

"Heph. You know who this guy needs to meet, right?" Moby asked with an evil grin under his mask.

"Ninja MILF who just turned 40 but looks about 25, killer abs, likes injuring people, has a butt you just want to-- uhm, I'm gonna stop right there," Heph said.

"Yeah, you do that. Geez, you've got Shava and yet you look at other women?" Moby said with a smirk.

"What? Oh, you are NOT getting me into trouble, He-Who-Judgeth-The-Quote-Badonkadonk-Unquote," Heph said, pointing his finger at Mobius Knight.

"I Do NOT use the word 'badonkadonk'!"

"GUYS! ARREST! NOW!" Fang shouted.

"That's your job, Fang, we've served his small claims papers," Heph said. Right now, we have an argument to finish!"

"Right!" Mobius Knight added. "I would never talk about womens' butts like that!"

"In public," Heph grumbled loudly.

"In public!" Mobius Knight said. "And in private! Also in private!" he said, too late to catch himself.

"Too late! Tell Mr. Snugglesworth to make room in the doghouse for you," Heph said. "Okay, that's a wrap!"

"No! WAIT!" Mobius Knight said as the screen cut to black and the credits rolled.

Later that evening, Tommy sat at the kitchen table with his mother and sister. Mrs. Pachowski went with a traditional Sicilian meal that night, caponata followed with pasta alla sarde and tonno alla siracusana. Both Tommy and Claire knew that a meal that consisted of nothing but the recipes of their "nonna di nonna" meant that someone was in for a serious post-date interrogation.

"How's the fish?" Mrs. Pachowski asked.

"Perfect as usual, Ma," Tommy said in between bites. "Grandma Torricone never let ya cut corners when she taught ya ta cook, did she?"

"No, she didn't," Mrs. Pachowski said. "Besides, you probably need to eat more. I bet you're hungry after that long night of fighting off that giant robot that attacked the dam in Overbrook."

"Eh, I got breakfast later, but I won't say no ta yer cookin'. The sardines're really good in the pasta. Didja get 'em over at the Indy Port Fish Market?" Tommy asked.

"No, I went to Festa Italiana in Founders. They have a better selection since it's all the rich people who live there," his mother said.

"I'm surprised that they let ya in, what with Claire an' me bein' heroes. They don't even let Blue Steel in there without letters from the archbishop, two independent accountants an' the chief'a police provin' he's okay ta shop there," Tommy grumbled.

"Yeah," Claire said. "We risk our necks for everyone in this city and people still treat us like roadkill."

"Oh, we haven't got much to worry about there, Tommy," Mrs. Pachowski said. "I just asked them to remember what happens when they refuse a cash-paying customer from the Yards."

Claire and Tommy shot each other an "Oh crap" glance.

"Ma, ya gotta stop doin' that," Tommy said. "People will start thinkin' we're part'a the Family or somethin'."

Claire nodded. "I don't want to be associated with those guys, Ma."

"Well, there was also something interesting I heard while I was there, Tommy. The tv there was on 'Paragon This Afternoon.' Their gossip reporter said you didn't leave Faultline last night, and were seen eating breakfast at the IHOP in New Overbrook with Doc Delilah," Mrs. Pachowski said.

"Yeah, I told ya I probably wasn't gonna be back in the mornin' if we had a really late night. We were fightin' the Burkholder-Bot at three o'clock this mornin'. That counts as a late night."

"No one goes to IHOP because of the ambiance, Tommy. They go there for post-coital pancakes."

Tommy's jaw dropped. Claire failed to suppress her laughter.

"Admit it, Tommy, you slept with her," Mrs. Pachowski said.

"Okay, so I did," Tommy said after shaking off the effect of his mother's turn of phrase. "It doesn't mean we did anything. Ask her. We were still fully clothed. That robot's no slouch when it's got a good pilot, we were too worn out ta do anything but sleep when we got ta her place."

"Do you know what kind of scandal that can create?"

"A boring one," Claire said. "Ma, it's Tommy we're talking about here."

"Besides, I gotta deal with you interrogatin' me when I get home," Tommy said. "Ya think I'm gonna tell ya anything other than the truth? I might be crazy enough ta face Lord Recluse when he's havin' a bad helmet day, but I'm not crazy enough ta dodge yer questions. Otherwise you'll just keep harpin' on me until ya hear the truth. An' even then ya won't believe me the first time."

"Well, you both seemed to be pretty happy in that video footage."

"We beat down a giant robot an' saved the day as a team, how's that not a reason ta be happy? We were talkin' shop 'bout other heroes, Ma," Tommy said. "I was tellin' her 'bout the time I let Citadel try out one'a Grandma Pachowski's lemon paczykis. I made the same face he did an' she cracked up."

"Well, when your father and I dated, people only went to IHOP in the morning together as a sign that you had a far more serious relationship than you let on."

Claire raised an eyebrow. "You ran around with some real weirdoes then, Ma," she said. "Sometimes a stack of pancakes is just a stack of pancakes."

Mrs. Pachowski turned her attention to her daughter. "Your brother and I are talking about adult subjects. You can leave the table if you're done."

"Besides, Ma, how would you know what going to IHOP meant?" Claire asked.

"That's none of your business," Mrs. Pachowski said, her cheeks flushing a little.

Tommy grinned. "Just gotta trust me on this, Ma, I'm tellin' ya the truth. Though the IHOP thing sounds like a good idea. It's better than the Walk of Shame over at the PCU Dorms."

"I wouldn't know anything abou that," Mrs. Pachowski said. "So are you going to see this woman again?"

"Nah," Tommy said. "She was gonna walk me back ta my car afterwards an' got confused in the elevator at the parkin' garage. It happens with her every so often. I think she gets spooked by the bell."

"I see. Well, finish your dinner. I have cannolis for dessert," Mrs. Pachowski said. "So, tell me, what's this Walk of Shame thing over at PCU?"

Tommy woke up as usual, staring at the ceiling. Funny, he thought his ceiling was a dark gray. This was bright yellow. His eyes darted left and right. No sign of any car parts. He sniffed the air. The scent there was of vanilla and lavender, definitely not transmission fluid.

No, this definitely was not his room. He scrabbled around on the nightstand for his glasses and put them on. In seconds the datalinks opened up and he realized that he was still in Faultline thanks to the GPS readout.

The loud snoring next to him confirmed that he definitely wasn't at home. No one snored like a choir of buzzsaws in the Pachowski household. The form under the covers shifted and he heard only one thing:

"Pancakes... we need pancakes..."

Damn. Pancakes sounded good. He'd have to get some once he got out of wherever he was.

Tommy swung his legs out of the bed.

"Where are you going?" came from under the covers.

"I gotta head home," Tommy said. "I got stuff ta do today."

"Want breakfast?"

"Uh, sure. How 'bout IHOP?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah. Sounds good," the form said before shifting around to reveal a shock of purple bed-head hair from under the cover. After a few moments Doc Delilah's head popped up. "Wait a minute. What are you doing in here?"

"Ya said no after I said I'd crash on the couch," Tommy said. "At least that's how I remember it."

"Oh yeah," she said. "Well, I figured I had the space..."

"Yeah."

"Did we?"

"Nah. After the fight with the giant Council Robot at the dam it was too late fer me ta drive home an' still be awake enough ta handle it. So ya let me crash here. I pretty much fell asleep soon as my head hit the pillow."

The amazonian archaeologist breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, good. Something like that would be bad to forget."

Tommy grinned. "Yeah, it would. Now, how 'bout them pancakes?"

((I'm very tempted to write Tommy having a series of bad dates with various women from the CoHverse. Tonight, Doc Delilah, next week, Azuria!))

Tommy Pachowski adjusted the windsor knot on his tie one last time as he checked himself in the mirror. He was definitely trying the young professorial look tonight: tweed sports jacket, school tie, blue jeans and decent hiking shoes. He ran a comb through his usually spiky blue hair and smoothed it out.

"Eh, this is gonna be as good as I can get it," he thought to himself. Tommy picked up the keys to his car and stepped out of his room.

"I'm headin' out, Ma," he said, waving a blue metal hand at his mother. "I'll be back late."

"And where are you going all dressed up?" Mary Pachowski said. "Well, halfway dressed up at least."

"Gotta first date tonight with a... colleague, I guess." Tommy nervously tapped on his dataglasses to check his schedule. "Dinner, some academic lecture on recoverin' data an' artifacts from the old group bases in Faultline, maybe head out ta Mariner's Point an do some stargazin' at the observatory."

"So, who is she?" his mother asked.

Tommy shrugged. "She's a minor celebrity, I guess. Ya know the type, ma. She's beautiful, got a Ph.D., has huge... amounts'a published material," he said, catching himself before saying something too. "Purple hair, tall, athletic, the usual."

Claire appeared from her doorway. "You asked HER out? Geez, Tommy, you guys'll look stupid together!"

"We will not, squirt," Tommy said as he shot a dirty look towards his sister.

"She's like seven feet tall. You're five-nine on a good day."

"So what?" Tommy said. "We got lotsa stuff in common."

"Uh-huh," Claire said with a smirk. "Like what?"

"Well, we both do a lotta delicate work on restorin' old stuff fer the sake'a historical accuracy, we find academia kinda stuffy... we can both bench press a late-model Ford truck..." he said, trying to end the conversation.

Claire snorted derisvely. "She's in for such a letdown. You're going to bore her."

"Thanks fer the pep talk, Claire," Tommy grumbled.

"Well, whoever she is, Tommy, be a gentleman. And for God's sake, don't stare at her breasts even if they're at eye level," Mary said. "You were raised better than that."

"Right, right. Well, I gotta head out." Tommy walked out of the apartment and down the hallway to the stairs. With any luck, he might have a nice night.

*The opening credits for "Serv'd!" roll, followed by the following recap clip*

"Any sign of him?" Heph whispered.

Mobius Knight sniffed twice. "Gyros. He's HERE."

--

"Hungry enough... to kill!" the Gyrobber said, pointing his bazooka at Fang.

Mobius Knight leapt into action. "I DON'T GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS CRAP!" he shouted as charged around the corner and into the grilling area of the kitchen.

--

Hephaestus 1 followed Mobius Knight into the abandoned kitchen. "All right, Gyrobber, your reign of meat larceny ends now!"

Moby, Fang and the Gyrobber all stopped and stared at him.

"Meat larceny?" Moby asked. "That sounds so wrong."

"Need... gyros..." the Gyrobber said, turning his bazooka towards Heph. "Your gyros or your life!"

Mobius Knight's katana flashed in the dimly lit kitchen, slicing through the Gyrobbers bazooka and the mascot's plaster arms. The mascot howled in unearthly agony as mystical energy shot forth from its stumps until it finally crumbled into dust.

"Well, that was fun. So, who's up for dim sum?" Heph asked.

Moby shook his head. "Count me in. As long as we go somewhere that doesn't have any kind of cute and fuzzy mascots, I'm fine."

Fang got up. "Thanks for the save, guys. If I've learned one thing today, it's that the business end of a bazooka looks much larger when it's pointed at your head. Come on, I'll introduce you to the platoon, and we'll--"

Heph looked down at his former sidekick. "Well, your sergeant was the one who called us in, so we've met him. So, which car was yours?"

Fang's face had a puzzled look on it. "I'm still on probabtion so I have to ride, not drive. My stuff is in car 38, though." He looked around at the dusty interior of the kitchen. "Well, now to see who did this," he said as he put on a pair of nitrile gloves and began to search through the mess.

"I'm just saying that one of the squad cars got blown up by that stray rocket that the Gyrobber launched. Was he chasing after you?" Heph asked.

"Yeah, at that point he was. I was trying to circle around him and hit him from the side, but he kept shooting those rockets everywhere," Fang said.

"That explains the holes and scorch marks on the building," Mobius Knight said as he poked through the plaster statue's remnants. "Hang on a sec. What's this?" He bent down and brushed away the fragmented plaster.

Underneath the wrecked bazooka and the plaster chips was a card from the latest CCG, "Ultramechanomagic Wars." The card had the name "Gyrobber" on some correction tape over the actual name of the creature as well as a picture of the Gyrobber clipped from a kids' menu, covered in a protective layer of clear tape.

"Who the heck modifies game cards with the names of commercial mascots?" Moby asked. "And why would this be here?"

Fang looked at the card that Moby found and smiled. "Hey, there's a fingerprint in here. It's an orange fingerprint, no less."

Heph swung his gaze from Fang to Moby. "Let's see. Who uses cards as part of his powers, that is to say heroes or villains who we know and don't have names that could violate our copyright?"

"Barry!" the three of them said.

"I'll get this card over to the identification section immediately for a comparison," Fang said. "If it turns out to be Barry, I know how you guys can get in on the bust."

The three heroes left the scene as the crime scene technicians came in. Fang handed over the card as evidence and asked the techs to put this on the supervillain-priority list. Fang walked back to his car and began typing in the report from his cruiser's computer console. Heph and Moby walked back to the SUV while Heph called up Larry McGonigle.

"Hey, Lar," Heph said. "Yeah, Fang's fine. No, seriously, he's fine. Yeah, it was a statue of one of the new City of Gyros Kids Menu characters. Well, Fang got the thing into a good position for teammates to flank it, though he was sent in alone. He did all right except for the getting cornered by a statue with a bazooka part. Rookie mistake, though."

Heph was still talking as they got in the SUV and drove away. A few hours later, Heph received a phone call from Fang.

"Heph, I want you and Mobius Knight backing me up on this. The print matched my prime suspect, and now I'm getting an arrest warrant for him. The City of Gyros manager where the statue was stolen also called about the criminal damage and wants it taken out of the guy's hide. Uncle Larry should have the small claims court paperwork ready for you."

Moby blinked. "Wait, is Fang trying to be assertive and all take-charge on this? That's so... so..."

"So amusing because it's like a Bichon Frise trying to shoulder-check a Rottweiler?"

"That works," Moby said.

As the team arrived at the Rhode Island District Courts building, they saw Larry running out to meet them, red-faced and breathing heavily. "O'Flannagan... papers... here."

"Lar, are you gonna be okay?" Heph asked.

Mobius Knight got out of the SUV and did a quick check of the older man's vitals. "You should have used the elevator," he said. "That and stop smoking and drinking so much coffee. Your heart can't handle the stress of running like that."

"Elevator... broken..." Larry wheezed. "Captain Leadfoot... fell through floor."

"Fine, fine," Moby said as he handed a bottle of water to Larry. "YOu could have walked, too."

"No... I couldn't... look at the summons, you'll see," the old liaison said as he took a few swigs of water and caught his breath.

Heph looked at the name and address. "Barry? Oh, geez, not HIM. Gah! That's it, we're sending him to for-real jail for this."

"For-real jail?" Moby said.

"Yeah, the jail that doesn't consider itself to be a time-out for criminals. I want to send Barry there," Heph said.

"Wait, I EAT PASTE MAN did this?"

"Yes," Heph said. "He did. And now we have to get there before Fang. Not because Fang will kill him or anything, but because it will get too weird for words if we don't."

"How weird are we talking?" Moby asked.

"Bad mental images you can't unsee weird."

Mobius Knight jumped into the passenger seat with the paperwork. "Let's go! I'd like to make a pre-emptive strike on weirdness today!"

Heph checked on Larry one more time, then got in and drove towards the one secret lair of all would-be heroes and villains: The Wizard's Starship comic book shop.

At the moment, the Cobalt Claymore was not having a good day. Sure, there weren't any serious problems like Malta inflitrations or Rikti shenanigans or the Warriors suddenly becoming competent. The blue-cloaked hero had a problem with another hero. All four feet nine inches and 90 pounds of her. His eyes darted left and right, then he fired off his swingline and rose up quickly into the air. As he quickly hopped up to the roof, he confronted a large group of High Park residents, many of whom were very unhappy-looking.

"Well, I suppose you're wondering why you've all been called here today," Todd began, trying to find a quick exit and and searching for some way to disappear quickly.

Earlier in the day, Todd Galahad, known to the public as the Cobalt Claymore, received an email from Claire Pachowski, formerly known as Emo Catgirl. It said "I need help with an investigation, and I want you to look at something for me to see if you agree with Tommy." Usually Claire would go to another member of the Young Phalanx for assistance. After all, that's what teammates are for. Anyway, he replied that he'd show up to go over the information with her. Then Todd covered his backside by letting his fiancee Marie (not to mention her mother, Oksah) know that he was meeting up with Claire to help her analyze an investigation. He also asked for backup, if need be. Once the two merfolk stopped giggling over his mild twinge of paranoia, they mentioned being busy with other matters pertaining to the Phoenix Force's new defense systems. Likewise, an email to Tommy "Back Yard Boom" Pachowski resulted in a confirmation that she actually did have a legitimate question for him. After that, it wasn't too tough for Todd to accept her request. He made sure there would be no serious questions about his intentions.

The Cobalt Claymore showed up in his usual quiet manner, cloaked with a bit of his father's old tricks in camouflage. He added the gifts of the shadow branded into his body by Mother Aoi as further insurance to help him not be seen. He found a good vantage point to spy on the meeting spot and waited for Claire to appear. Once she showed up, he moved out of his hiding spot and reappeared quietly behind her, causing her to just about jump out of her skin. Apparently, the original Cobalt Claymore was right about why making a quiet entrance was psychologically advantageous when meeting with individuals.

"All right, Claire," the Cobalt Claymore said. "What information have you got for me to analyze? Tommy said it has something to do with Crey, am I correct?"

Claire regained her composition and turned around to face her questioner. "Well, yeah, but that's not really why I wanted to talk to you, CC. It's something more personal."

Todd looked around. No cameras from any tv-practical-joke shows, no group of tattooed weirdoes waiting to shout out "Y'all got punked!" or the like. "Personal? You shouldn't ask me questions of a personal nature. I'm going to leave since you don't really want my answer on work-related stuff. Don't bother me unless you're-- Claire, what the hell are you doing bowing to me?"

"Take me as an apprentice ninja!" Claire said. "I want to learn what you know."

The Cobalt Claymore's hand clapped his forehead. "Not this ninja stuff again, Claire," he complained. "I told you that I'm not a real ninja, all right? Get your nose out of those manga and into something more appropriate, like, I don't know... Dumas or something."

"Your mother is a ninja, right?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, and?"

"She taught you the arts of the ninja while she was trying to turn you into a proper heir for her side of the family, right?"

"If you want to call being mystically merged with a shadow and attempts at massive brainwashing 'teaching,' I guess you'd be right," the Cobalt claymore grumbled.

"Well, then by family and training, you'd be a ninja, right?" Claire asked.

"But I'm not a ninja, I'm a costumed crimefighter. Ninjas are spies, assassins, guerilla warriors and every so often they're folk heroes. I'm none of those."

"Your parents were spies. You learned spy stuff from your dad," Claire said. "Ergo, you're a ninja. Or at least of ninja heritage!"

The Cobalt Claymore shrugged. "Okay, you have a point, but I'm not taking any apprentices. Quit pestering me about it."

Claire fell to the ground, bowing deeply. "Please reconsider! Take me as your apprentice! Be my master and use me as you see fit to fight crime!"

"Claire?" the Cobalt Claymore asked.

"Yes?" Claire answered.

"One of the first rules of being a ninja is to always use your inside voice so people outside can't hear you so well," the Cobalt Claymore said, gesturing to the people who looked down the alley to find the source of all the shouting. Finding a young girl kowtowing to a cloaked hero, people made motions to gather others to confront this weirdo hero.

"Hey, ya freak!" a balding middle-aged man with a cigar said while he pointed at the Cobalt Claymore. "Nobody gets away with messin' with a kid from the Yards!"

"Oh, crap," both Claire and the Cobalt Claymore said as they leapt for the fire escape and ran up the stairways to escape the horde of angry neighbors. Every so often the pair dodged angry citizens who poked heads and arms out of fire escape windows to hurl insults, beer bottles and the occasional brick at the Cobalt Claymore.

"I got a little carried away, I think!" Claire shouted. "Does this mean I'm not going to be an apprentice ninja?"

"I think it's safe to say the answer is no!" the Cobalt Claymore said as he dodged an old shoe. "And don't ever ask me to be your master, people will take it wrong, for Pete's sake!"

"Sorry!" Claire shouted as she hit the roof, turned invisible and lept away from the angry mob scene. All the Cobalt Claymore could do at this point was try to ditch the crowd. Maybe if he backtracked, then leapt from one of the apartments, he'd be safe. He ducked into an alley and tried to think how to best execute that plan.

"Dad never had this problem when I was a sidekick," the Cobalt Claymore said to himself.

[ QUOTE ]
“We were thinking about calling it Project Minmei, but that would be a dead giveaway to any of our opposition. So we're going with a simpler name, Songbird.”

[/ QUOTE ]

You realize of course with the "Project Minmei" line in there, Kelly will have to start dating one of the ghosts from Fort Hades in Port Oakes.

That way she can sing "My Boyfriend is a Pirate."

Heh. Well, if I've gotten one person's day to be a little better, I've done my job.

Now, if I've gotten one of my callers' days to be a little better, I'm clearly doing something wrong.

*We see Hephaestus 1 sitting in Larry McGonigle's office, waiting for a case. A can of new Red Beast INTENSITY energy drink sits on the desk next to him. He picks it up and reads the label.*

Voiceover: What does Hephaestus 1 think about new Red Beast INTENSITY energy drink?

*Heph pops open the can and sniffs warily at it. His mechanical "What the hell?" eyebrow pops up from over his center-mounted eye.*

Heph: It's... different-smelling.

Voiceover: That's right, Hephaestus 1! Red Beast INTENSITY smells different than normal Red Beast. Why? Because IT'S FILLED WITH INTENSITY!

Heph: Ooooookeydokey.

*The screen dissolves and Heph finds himself in front of a blinged-out M1 Abrams tank.*

Heph: Why is this tank done up in a metallic purple flake with gold lightning bolts on it? And who in their right mind put spinners on those road wheels?

Voiceover: BECAUSE RED BEAST INTENSITY IS LIKE DRIVING A BLINGED-OUT TANK... THROUGH A MINEFIELD OF KITTENS!

*Heph double-takes at that*

Heph: WHAT?

Kittens: Mew?

VOICEOVER: KITTENS WITH LASERS!

*the kittens light the tank up with laser fire as Hephaestus 1 dodges and grabs some cover*

Kittens: Mew!

Heph: What the hell is WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?

Voiceover: RED BEAST INTENSITY MAKES YOU DO THINGS GOODER!

*the screen flashes to bright red with "GRAMMAR IS FOR THE WEAK" in large black letters*

Voiceover: IT MAKES YOU DO THINGS GOODER... WITH YOUR FISTS! GO AHEAD! DRINK A RED BEAST INTENSITY AND LEARN THE ALPHABET!

*The screen goes red again with caption of "USING ONLY YOUR FISTS"*

Heph: I don't think that makes sense...

Voiceover: SHUT UP, CELEBRITY ENDORSER! RED BEAST INTENSITY ONLY USED YOU AS BAIT FOR OUR TARGET AUDIENCE!

*The screen goes red again: "Y'ALL GOT PUNKED!"*

Voiceover: RED BEAST INTENSITY HAS COMMAND OVER YOU! BUY! DRINK! KICK THIS ADORABLE KOALA IN THE FACE! KICK IT!

*A koala with a look of confused terror appears briefly followed by the caption "TOO SLOW, CHUNKY!"*

Voiceover: RED BEAST INTENSITY IS SO INTENSE IT'S GOT NUTRITION IN IT! DOES THAT MATTER? NO! WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU'LL HAVE A GIRLFRIEND JUST BY DRINKING RED BEAST INTENSITY!

*The red screen appears with the caption "AND SHE'S HOT, TOO. WE'RE JEALOUS"*

Heph: Mobius Knight put you guys up to this, didn't he?

Voiceover: MAYBE BUT WE'RE NOT TELLING UNLESS YOU BUY RED BEAST INTENSITY AND KILL THIS CLOWN WITH A CHAINSAW!

*A clown appears*

Clown: Honk?

Voiceover: A CHAINSAW... MADE OF FISTS!

*The screen goes red again with the caption "THINGS GO BETTER WITH FISTS"*

Heph: I'm not drinking your product. It smells weird.

Voiceover: THAT'S JUST CIVET URINE WE STRAINED FOR PURITY!

Clown: DUDE! I just drank one of those!

*The screen goes red again with the caption "IT'S UREA-LICIOUS, SUCKAZ!"*

Heph: Wait, you drank one?

Clown: Yeah. I don't feel so--

*The clown bursts into flame and runs around in a festive panic*

Clown: Honk honk! I'M ON FIRE!

Voiceover: NO CLOWN CAN CONTAIN THE INTENSITY!

Heph: Huh. First day with Fire Armor, I see...

Clown: Small Intestine... carbonizing!

Heph: Yeah, I hear it'll do that sometimes.

*The caption appears: "CLOWNS CAN'T HANG, YO"*

Voiceover: NEW RED BEAST INTENSITY! YOUR SEXUAL PROWESS WILL BE MIGHTY WITH JUST ONE SIP! UNLESS YOU'RE A CLOWN AND THEN YOU'LL BURST INTO FLAAAAME!

Heph: Who the hell booked me for this? Come on, laser kittens, I'll teach you how to pick off Crey snipers in Founders Falls.

Kittens: Mew!

Clown: Little... help... here... guys?

New Voiceover: Red Beast Intensity may not actually work for you like it did all the other guys in which case you're a sissy-pants loser. Follow all instructions on the can, including the one that says "Do Not Drink." Red Beast Intensity is meant purely for show, not for actual human consumption. This drink is known to cause clowns who drink it to spontaneously combust 100 percent of the time.

*The screen goes black and into another commercial*

The team pulled up to an abandoned Up-N-Away Burger in Hephaestus 1's SUV. The old fast-food restaurant was surrounded by police vehicles and yards of yellow warning tape. Heph and Mobius Knight walked over to the police sergeant in charge of the scene as Clem and Mitch set up their gear.

"Hey, Murph," Hephaestus 1 said as he surveyed the area. "What do we have here?"

"This is one of the more common ones, Mick; it's an S-Code 138: Animated Mascot Rampage, Supernatural," Sergeant Murphy said as he reviewed his manpower sheets. "I sent one of my officers in to deal with it, and he hasn't come out yet."

Heph pulled out a notepad and pen from a shirt pocket. One of the first things a good police officer learns is to always have something to use for writing and always have a place to take notes. "So, why didn't you send in a building entry team or a couple of Ghosts?"

"You know how it is, Mick," the sergeant complained while scratching at his salt-and-pepper hair. "You have to have pull to get SWAT access if you've already got a cape in your platoon."

Heph's mechanical eyebrow raised. "So, you're Fang's sergeant, huh? Were you the one who called Larry McGonigle?"

"Yeah, that was me," Sergeant Murphy said. "I figured getting you guys here would be quicker. Right now SWAT has its hands full with a couple of bank robberies."

"Can we move it along?" Mobius Knight asked. "I haven't stabbed anyone today."

Sergeant Murphy's walrus-like mustache twitched. "New guy, huh?" he asked Heph, nodding towards the swordsman.

"No, he just has a violent streak is all. Based on previous experience watching out for a swordslinger, I just treat him like an early-model claymore mine."

"This Side Toward Enemy?" Murphy asked.

"No. 'Do Not Eat,'" Heph said with the hint of gallows humor that comes with being a field training officer.

Sergeant Murphy's face broke into a grin, and he started laughing. "Nice."

"So, where's Fang and what are we chasing?" Heph asked.

"He's in the building trying to take down this guy," Sergeant Murphy said as he handed over a photo to Heph and Moby.

"You've got to be kidding me," both heroes said in unison.

"No, you're going after one of the characters from the new City of Gyros Kids' Menu. The Gyrobber."

The Gyrobber was the latest in City of Gyros' new pantheon of kid-friendly mascots. He was dressed in the garb of a shepherd, but had a bandanna covering his face. He also carried a traditional Greek musical instrument with him, the bouzouki.

"Be careful. He's apparently armed with a bazooka," Murphy said.

"No, that's a bouzouki, a traditional stringed instrument that--" Moby began, only to duck as a rocket shot past his head and detonated on the side of a squad car, flipping it onto its other side. "I stand corrected!"

Heph started walking confidently towards the door of the old restaurant. "Come on, we've got another hero to save," he said.

Moby walked up alongside the big blue cyborg. "Heph, tell me why we get stuck in situations like this. Don't we have more paperwork to deliver?"

"Yeah, but being a hero always comes first. Besides, somebody's got to hunt down all the lame criminals."

Moby shook his head. "That's Fang's job, though, not ours!"

"Well, Fang needs backup," Heph said as he stepped up to the front door. "When he fails, someone has to pick up where he left off."

"But, it's the Gyrobber! How am I going to explain this to Terra?" Moby said. "What do I say, 'Hi honey, I just got done fighting the forces of Lame!' or something?"

Heph pulled back his mighty fist and punched the restaurant doors right in the center post of their frame, directly on the deadbolt lock that held the doors in place. The frame buckled and the safety glass shattered as the doors were popped loose from the locks. Moby swung the remnant of one door wide and stepped into the building.

"Kitchen first, then food storage, then restrooms," Heph said.

"Got it," Moby said. The two made their way quickly to the front counter, and the swordsman quietly climbed over the counter. He drew his katana and looked around.

"Any sign of him?" Heph whispered.

Mobius Knight sniffed twice. "Gyros. He's HERE."

From the other side of the ready lines, a plaintive groan wafted towards the heroes.

"So... hungry. So very... hungry! Your gyros or your life!"

"For the last time, I don't carry gyros with me!" the high-pitched voice of Fang snarled.

"Hungry enough... to kill!" the Gyrobber said, pointing his bazooka at Fang.

Mobius Knight leapt into action. "I DON'T GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS CRAP!" he shouted as charged around the corner and into the grilling area of the kitchen.

*The screen goes black with the caption "TO BE CONTINUED" in the center.*