Episode 102

Death Takes a Latté

...from the Files of Hydrogen Guy

Part I

Monday afternoon

Vancouver International Airport,Vancouver, BC

Helium Girl and Deuterium Boy stood at the international arrivals gate, their manner somewhat on edge. Helium Girl was clutching a large bouquet of white lilies. Deuterium Boy surreptitiously checked his watch, and Helium Girl expelled a frustrated burst of air.

Helium Girl
I still can't see him, and people have been coming out for, like, ten minutes.

Deuterium Boy
Maybe they're not from his flight. It's arrived, but maybe they just haven't started coming off the plane yet.

Helium Girl
He was flying in from Japan, right?

Deuterium Boy
Uh... yeah, right. It was a direct flight.

Helium Girl
Well, like, half these people are Japanese, so this has to be his plane.

Deuterium Boy
This is why I hate airports. You have to wait or line up for everything.

Security Guard
Excuse me, Deuterium Boy?

Deuterium Boy
Hi.

Security Guard
I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you know a gentleman named Alonso Bassington?

Deuterium Boy
A tall, skinny guy, really pale, wears a lot of black drapery?

Security Guard
That's him. They've got him in Customs. He's got some, uh, unusual luggage, and ...

Deuterium Boy
... and he's being uncommunicative?

Security Guard
He's being pretty difficult, sir. He indicated you would be here waiting for him. If you don't mind stepping back with me --

Deuterium Boy
Sure, no problem. Don't worry, if no-one's bleeding yet, then he's not really being difficult. I'm sure it's just a translation issue. I'd be pretty surprised if you had someone on site who speaks Death.

 
Half an hour later, Deuterium Boy, Helium Girl and the figure whose passport identified him as landed immigrant Alonso Bassington emerged from airport security and headed for the exit. Mr. Bassington wore voluminous black robes, slightly frayed at the edges, which hid his face, body and feet completely, making him look like a black spectre floating through the terminal. The only part of him that was visible was a single thin, white hand clutching what appeared to be a long, silver-tipped staff that he used as a walking stick, as if they were out for a stroll in some alpine meadow rather than the airport. The other hand was lost inside the folds of black fabric, clutching the leash of a red suitcase which rolled along behind him like a faithful pet.

Other travellers in the busy terminal took the bright, outlandish costumes of Helium Girl and Deuterium Boy more or less in stride, but a large number reacted to Mr. Bassington with varying degrees of alarm. Some stared, some looked away as though their lives depended on it, some made warding gestures and moved away quickly, others yelped or dropped their luggage or tried to hide, or even all three. A few, a minority of native Lower Mainlanders, simply took him in with a brief glance or two, nodded to themselves contentedly, and went back to their business. Ah, they told themselves, Reaper, the Minion of Death, is back in town. Wonder where he's been hiding?

Deuterium Boy, Helium Girl, and Mr. Bassington took no notice of the commotion he was causing.

Deuterium Boy
What I don't understand, is how you always walk right through with your mono-planar scythe, but they spent forty-five minutes hassling you about a pair of eighteenth century Japanese nail clippers.

Reaper
[mystified silence]

Helium Girl
Like, maybe they knew that they were cursed.

Reaper's suitcase trembled ominously, and an unearthly buzzing noise rose from somewhere inside it. Reaper silenced it with a sharp kick.

Helium Girl
But, like, who cares about stupid Canada Customs? Reaper, it is so good to see you! I can't believe it's been, like, over a year and half since you left! I've, like, so totally missed going shopping with you, and having you break into my apartment and cook me dinner, and just totally everything! Oh my God, do you realise we've never watched "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" together? Or "What Not to Wear"? We totally have so much catching up to do!

Reaper
[happy silence]

Deuterium Boy
Yeah, buddy, it's good to have you back. We've missed having your scythe backing us up.

Reaper
[mocking silence]

Deuterium Boy
Heh, yeah, yeah, we've managed... I'm looking forward to hearing about your world-tour.

Helium Girl
Yah, like, I think it's just so totally cool you did that! I mean, like, the whole Zxanxi thing was all kind of angsty for everyone, and I totally understand that you like, wanted to travel and sort of find yourself after that. I mean, it's just so cool, I mean that you just went and did it, you know?

Deuterium Boy
I don't know if it was "finding himself" so much as "kicking ass on a global basis". I am extremely curious about that little "meeting" you had with Americana in Tajikistan.

Reaper
[dismissive silence]

Deuterium Boy
Oh come on, I hear that when she got back to the States she chucked electrobolts at Democratic senators from the top of the Washington monument every night for a month. It was not "nothing".

Helium Girl
And you have to tell us what it's like to live in Japan for six months. And I wanna hear all the details about Valkyrie K.

Reaper
[pained silence]

She looped her arm through his and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

Helium Girl
Love, like, totally sucks, doesn't it? We'll talk about it over some bubble tea.

Reaper
[inquisitive silence]

Deuterium Boy
Oh, yeah, there's been a few changes here, too. I guess the last email you got from us was about the inflatable cat case, right? There's been a few shake-ups since then. You might have heard that when the new PM took office, he put a freeze on all new government spending? That hit us with kind of a double punch. On the one hand, our Super-Hero Development Grant was up for renewal, and no new spending meant no new SHD Grants. The League's been protesting, but it hasn't done any good. On the other hand, the Maple Ridge Institute of High Energy Physics also didn't get the budget increase it was hoping for, so that meant a lot of new research projects got shelved. It doesn't mean the end of the Institute, exactly, but the Director has encouraged us to find joint appointments at other institutions, collaborations with industry, that kind of thing.

Reaper
[startled silence]

Deuterium Boy
Yeah. The long and the short of it is, we've had to go and get real jobs.

By this time, the trio had left the airport terminal and started crossing the parking lot. The Tritium Truck lay just ahead in short term parking.

Helium Girl
I mean, I'm totally lucky, 'cause I'm a super-model, and they always pay me ridiculous amounts of money just to be sexy. But, like, let's face it, I'm 25 and I'm not getting any younger. In a few years, the only job I'll be able to get is modelling sweaters on the Internet, superhero or not. And I have this fabulous lifestyle to support!

Deuterium Boy
You'll just have to marry rich, I guess.

Helium Girl
Like, that's always been the plan.

Deuterium Boy deactivated the Tritium Truck's security system - especially designed by Canadian Arms and Warfare, vaporising car thieves since 1987 - and helped Reaper fit his luggage in the back. Reaper gave him a concerned look.

Deuterium Boy
Well, yeah, things are a little tight around the Cave these days, but HG and I are kicking a bit of our own salaries in to keep things running. Jim has a buddy at the University, who helped him get an adjunct professor's gig in the Physics department. I'm working with a company called Orec Technologies, who are trying to develop self-assembling aqueous nano-scale femtosecond optical systems.

Reaper
[confused silence]

Deuterium Boy
Instant lasers, just add heavy water.

Helium Girl
Like sea-monkeys!

Deuterium Boy
Exactly. I don't know what it has to do with nuclear chemistry either, but the money's good. Better than modelling sweaters on the Internet.

Helium Girl
Actually, DB, I thought you'd, like, wind up doing voice-work in gay tentacle Hentai.

Reaper
[shudders]

They climb into the Tritium Truck, DB in the driver's seat, Reaper on the passenger side and Helium Girl in the back seat. DB backs out of their parking spot and makes for the exit.

Deuterium Boy
Helium Girl, have you got a twoney? ... Thanks. Don't worry about it, Reaper, we've got it... Anyway, like I say, my new job's pretty good, I'm basically a consultant. I fill the position of semi-famous scientist, nod knowingly during PowerPoint presentations, futz around in the lab for a couple hours and then take off for the Cave by four. It leaves plenty of time for crime-fighting. Jim, on the other hand, has been completely swamped. As an adjunct, they don't expect him to teach classes, but they do expect him to sit on committees, crank out papers and co-supervise graduate students. Jim's had a whole filing cabinet of stuff he hasn't had time to publish since we started on the Truth, Silliness and the Canadian Way thing, so he decided that now was the time to write everything up.

He paused as he paid the parking attendant, then continued as he pulled the Tritium Truck onto the highway bound for the city.

Deuterium Boy
For the last three months, HG's been sort of semi-retired while Jim's been writing papers. He's never been that great at multi-tasking. Helium Girl and I have been handling most of the local villainous plots without him.

Reaper
[surprised silence]

Deuterium Boy
Well, it hasn't been too bad, really. Hans-Raoul seems to have disappeared. I suspect he's looking for his secretary, who'd been possessed by a demon last time we saw her. The Crustacean's usually pretty quiet in the winter months, I think he and his crew take off for Torrado. ICBC comes up with something once in a while, but without Hans-Raoul or the Black Rose behind it, it usually lacks the same verve.

Reaper nodded. An evil criminal organisation bent on world domination was only as good as its criminal masterminds, after all.

Deuterium Boy
I guess the rest is just gossip. I'm being stalked by a love-sick marine biologist, Gen X Man's grown this ridiculous moustache that makes him look like a walrus...

Helium Girl
Hey, hey, gossip and fashion disasters are, like, my territory, buster. You just talk about the superheroey stuff.

Deuterium Boy
Sorry... so, Reaper, you need caffeine?

Reaper
[enthusiastic silence]

Deuterium Boy
Coming right up...

 

The Hydrogen Cave, Maple Ridge, BC

Reaper was pleased to find the Hydrogen Cave more or less as he remembered it, except that the couch and chairs had been re-covered, and DB had recently upgraded the espresso machine (to a model that was self-cleaning and read email).

Deuterium Boy
Reaper, go easy. That's your third mocha latté in the last half hour.

Reaper
[jet-lagged silence]

Helium Girl
Like, I know! How long's it been since you had coffee, like, months?

Reaper was about to elaborate on his recent caffeine deprivation when the Hydrogen Cave's elevator dinged and disgorged world-renowned theoretical physicist Jim Evans. His manner hinted that he'd been taking in a good bit of caffeine himself lately.

Non-stop. For a week and a half.

Evans
I have it! I have the proof! It all makes SENSE!

He raced around the cave, waving some slightly crumpled papers. If there were windows in the Hydrogen Cave, he would have been running between them, closing the shutters, and muttering about air guns. Finally he landed in the lounge.

Evans
I have the proof right here. I've tracked him to his lair, and -- Oh, what ho, Reaper! Just get in, did you?

Deuterium Boy
Jim, what in the name of Ananda are you babbling about?

Evans
Referee X, DB! I've cornered Referee X, and what's more, he knows it! He knows he's about to be exposed, and when I expose him, his entire web of obfuscation and deceit will come crumbling down! Pardon the mixed metaphor. Reaper, how was the flight?

Deuterium Boy
Jim --

Evans
DB, you keep interrupting.

Deuterium Boy
You still haven't explained what you're talking about!

Evans
Well, it's still rude.

Helium Girl got up from the couch.

Helium Girl
Okay, like, if it's crazy time, I have to get ready for a photo shoot in half an hour. I'm audi. Reaper, I'll call you later, 'kay?

Reaper
[mildly bemused silence]

She turned with a wave and headed towards the workout rooms. Deuterium Boy marked her departure with a raised eyebrow.

Deuterium Boy
By the way, you're breaking your own rule about no civilian clothes in the Cave.

Evans
Never mind that now. Look at this.

He thrust the papers at Deuterium Boy. Reaper peered at them over his shoulder.

Deuterium Boy
It's an email from the American Journal of Quantum Mineralogy.

Evans
Exactly!

Deuterium Boy
Hydrogen Guy -- I mean, Jim -- will you please tell us what you're talking about?

Reaper
[entreating silence]

Evans
What, you mean it isn't obvious?

Deuterium Boy
NO!

Reaper
[emphatically negative silence]

Evans
Oh. Sorry, I should've explained. DB, Reaper -- good to have you back, old chip -- that email you hold there is a crucial clue in tracking down a scoundrel -- I think I'd even call him a mega-scoundrel -- whose whole purpose is the sowing of confusion, despair and chaos --

Deuterium Boy
-- and you call him "Referee X".

Evans
That's only one of his many aliases.

Deuterium Boy
It's the first I've heard of him.

Evans
I've had to proceed very cautiously. You see, Reaper --

He turned to the Minion of Death.

Evans
When you submit a paper to a scientific journal, the editors send it out to two or three scientists in the field for review. These referees or reviewers look it over, and recommend to the editors whether or not to accept it for publication. Usually they come up with a bunch of comments or criticisms for the authors, and then send it back so the authors can respond and make changes and so forth. The whole thing's anonymous, you never know who the referees are unless they identify themselves.

Deuterium Boy
It's called "peer review".

Reaper
[silence]

Evans
You're right, it is fascinating. Now, as you know, DB, I've been locked away at the University, writing up all my results from the last year, cranking out papers like a mad man --

Deuterium Boy
What an apt analogy.

Evans
-- and of the five papers I've submitted to various journals over the last several months, the response has been the same for every single one: the majority of the reviewers either like it or have a few minor quibbles or corrections, but one reviewer, always one, has been a complete butthead!

Deuterium Boy
A "butthead" in this case being defined as someone who disagrees with you?

Evans
A "butthead" in this case being defined as a mentally deficient, incompetent ass who misses the point completely! For example, the reviewer for the supersymmetric lepto-hematite paper thought I was using a computational method that became obsolete in the late '70's, and wanted me to include a list of references that had nothing to do with the system we were working on! One of them was on protein folding, for Feynman's sake! He could've got a more relevant list using Google and dart-board! Then there was the ref for our paper on the thermodynamics of positron-enriched clinopyroxene who objected to every comma in the text, and politely recommended that we have a native English speaker check it over before resubmitting! A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER! And then the referee at Phys. Rev. Letters rejected a third paper because it wasn't long enough! DB, you were a co-author on that one, you remember!

Deuterium Boy
Yeah, that was a little weird, but sometimes you get --

Evans
AND THEN there was the paper on the topological invariance of tetrahedral electric field gradients in ten dimensions, where --

Reaper
[thoroughly entertained silence]

Deuterium Boy
Okay, okay, we get the point! You've gotten some tough reviewers!

Evans
Tough doesn't begin to describe them. In two cases these buttheads caused the paper to be rejected outright, and when I resubmitted it to another journal, the reviewers came back with the same insane criticisms. Twice! DB, I've got five papers under review right now, and I'm fighting with one butthead reviewer on all of them.

Deuterium Boy
Ouch.

Evans
Ouch, exactly. Then, about a month ago, it hit me. All these butthead reviewers had to be the same guy!

Deuterium Boy
The same guy.

Evans
Referee X, Deuterium Boy! Referee X!

Deuterium Boy
Reaper, you sit on his head, I'll call the ambulance.

Evans
DB, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true! It has to be true! I have proof!

Reaper
[sceptical silence]

Evans
I took all of the comments I'd gotten from the butthead reviewers and performed a textual analysis on them. Frequencies of certain words and phrases, common paragraph structures, that sort of thing. Bingham down the hall does that sort of thing on the plays of Shakespeare. Five of the seven comments had statistically significant commonalties, and the other two were just below the threshold. That's fully consistent with a common authorship for all seven comments!

Deuterium Boy
And, of course, you ran the same analysis on the other reviewers comments, and on neutral text samples both by the same known author and by different authors, to demonstrate validity of the method.

Evans
Of course. But I see your point, DB, we might be able to get together with Bingham and write this up as a letter somewhere --

Deuterium Boy
You see, Reaper, this is what happens when a world-renowned theoretical physicist gets overworked.

Reaper
[acknowledging silence]

Evans
Now, this raised all sorts of questions - how did this Referee X get selected to review all of my papers, for all those different journals? Was there some kind of conspiracy among the journals? Who was he, and why was he doing this? Was he trying to drive me nuts? Did he have some vendetta against me? Did he, somehow, know that world-renowned theoretical physicist James D. Evans was actually Hydrogen Guy?

Deuterium Boy
Would a helmet made of aluminum foil stop Referee X's crazy waves from affecting your brain? Or should you go for lead?

Evans
You know, DB, I'm not getting a feeling of unconditional support from you here.

Deuterium Boy
Jim... Calm down and listen to me for a minute. You are raving like a lunatic.

Reaper
[reluctantly agreeing silence]

Deuterium Boy
When was the last time you took a day off? I mean, a whole day? No writing, no research, no emails, nothing?

Evans
You can have days like that?

Deuterium Boy
That's what I thought. Jim, I know this is how you like to work, going all hard-core on one thing until it's finished and ignoring everything else, but it's not working this time. Look at you, you've gotten paranoid and delusional. Okay, more paranoid and delusional than you usually are. You're heading full-tilt for a burn-out.

Evans
No, I'm not.

Deuterium Boy
Yes, you are.

Evans
Well... maybe a little... but --

Deuterium Boy
This "Referee X" thing. You've been working the physicist part of your brain so hard lately - for months - that the superhero part of your brain is beginning to starve. And I think it's invented this "Referee X" conspiracy to keep itself occupied.

Reaper
[sceptical silence]

Deuterium Boy
Look, you have a relationship with a woman who only exists in dreams and see if you don't become an amateur shrink, too.

Evans
But, Deuterium Boy --

Deuterium Boy
Dave. Jim, you need to take a vacation. Maybe a couple weeks. Just leave the papers, the grad students, the calculations, and go home. Don't take any work with you. Read some novels. No Kafka. Spend some time with Kate. Take a trip somewhere where you can't read your email.

Evans
Kate?

Deuterium Boy
Yes, you know, that nice woman who reminds you to eat. She's called me, she thinks you're overworked too.

Evans
DB... er, Dave... I appreciate your concern. And I will take some time off. I'll be ready to send the last paper off in a couple days, and then I am going to take some time off. Thanks.

Deuterium Boy
Hey, we're your friends. We worry about you.

Reaper
[concerned silence]

Evans
Thanks, guys... Now, getting back to Referee X --

Deuterium Boy
Reaper, hand me your scythe.

Evans
Dave, just hear me out! Give me five more minutes, and if you still think I'm nuts, then I promise I'll never mention it again! But I really, really think I'm on to something! Something villainous!

Deuterium Boy sighed, and ruffled his hair in a sort of tearing-out gesture.

Deuterium Boy
All right, fine. Go ahead.

Evans
Okay... now, putting aside all those questions I raised before, I figured it couldn't be that hard to figure out who Referee X was. It's a pretty small field. But I couldn't think of anyone I'd pissed off enough professionally to try and cook up this kind of scheme, whatever it was he was trying to accomplish. So I asked Bucky Argo, who's an associate editor at Am. J. Q. Min, to find out who that particular butthead was.

Deuterium Boy
You asked an associate editor to find out who one of the reviewers was?

Evans
I know, I know, it's kind of unethical, and I could get in trouble for it, but I figured it was an extenuating circumstance. Besides, Bucky isn't assigned to my paper.

Deuterium Boy
And the associate editor's name is "Bucky"?

Evans
Everyone started calling him that after he did his matriculation on fullerenes. Can I continue?

Deuterium Boy
Sorry.

Reaper settled back and sipped his latté. To say he'd missed this kind of banter from the Covalent Crusaders would have been an exaggeration, but hearing it again certainly made him feel like he was home again.

Evans
Anyway, no big surprise, Bucky couldn't tell me anything. I don't really blame him, he would've been sacked if anyone found out. But this morning, I got two emails. This one from the editor at Am. J. Q. Min. telling me that he'd had to send my paper to a new reviewer because one of them had withdrawn.

Deuterium Boy
The butthead?

Evans
Exactly! And then I got this!

He thrust a second sheet at Deuterium Boy. It was a short email.

Deuterium Boy
"Dr. Evans, I believe that peer review is supposed to be anonymous. But then, we're both at fault in this instance. Meet me at Calvary, by Ulysses J. Kramer, noon on Tuesday, to learn something to your advantage. Sincerely, Referee X"... You've got to be kidding me...

Evans looked triumphant.

Reaper
[silently wondering whether this invitation is a trap]

Deuterium Boy
"PS I promise this is not a trap."

Evans
The return address was spoofed, but hunting through the headers, I figured out it came from a machine at the University of Washington in Seattle.

Deuterium Boy
Who works in quantum geochemistry at the UW?

Evans
I checked the faculty web pages, nobody lists anything related to my work as a research interest. I even called the physics department. The machine that email came from belongs to a guy who does general relativity. He's probably never even heard of Am. J. Q. Min.

Deuterium Boy
Okay... first question: supposing that the Am. J. Q. Min. butthead was Referee X, who exists, and that he withdrew because he somehow found out you were on to him... Why only withdraw from reviewing that paper? Why not withdraw from all five?

Evans
Maybe he doesn't know I'm on to him, and thinks I'm only investigating him as the Am. J. Q. Min. butthead.

Deuterium Boy
Hm. Tenuous... Second question: all this happened after you talked to Bucky Argo. Maybe he's Referee X?

Evans
Unlikely. He's in Bochum, Germany, not Seattle. Also, his emails don't match Referee X's comments under textual analysis. He might know who Referee X is, though, and have tipped him off. And I trusted him, too...

Deuterium Boy sighed, and tossed the papers on the couch.

Deuterium Boy
So now what? You try the same trick at the other journals, and he'll back off there, too?

Evans
Nuh-uh. I'm gonna settle this once and for all.

He stood up and struck a heroic pose, or as heroic a pose as a slightly overweight, rumpled academic can, anyway.

Evans
I think Hydrogen Guy is going to pay a visit to the Emerald City.

Deuterium Boy
Oh, no.

Evans
Oh, yes!

 

Tuesday

Waterfront, Seattle, WA

"Who do you work for?"

"We're a private enterprise, ma'am, honestly!"

Normally, Splendid Man took Tuesdays off. He learned early on that the superhero business would take over your life if you didn't learn to make time for you.

"Lying terrorist scum..."

"Ah ah ow ow -- !"

But sometimes things come up, and you need to make sacrifices.

"You expect me to believe that you made a couple million in counterfeit American currency in your basement back in Malaysia? That the Southeast Asian drug cartels let you have their product for practically nothing because of your natural charm and good looks?"

"Ow ow ah ARRRGH!!"

"Who do you work for?"

He'd been working on this case for a couple months, when last week he had heard that a big shipment was due to arrive today. The Blue Stallion and Kid Colt, Seattle's usual big names, were out of town, something about going undercover in Oklahoma. So he let the United Super Hero Association know that he could use some backup. Someone reliable, level-headed, and easy to work with, like the Codpiece from Portland, or maybe the Intrepid Amaze-O from Spokane.

The USHA sent Americana.

"AAUUUAA!!!"

"WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?"

"Ab--Abdullah the Talon! We work for Abdullah the Talon!"

Splendid Man winced as his partner flung the sailor across the hold, where he landed with a bone-fracturing crunch. Splendid Man cleared his throat.

Splendid Man
I, uh... don't think that was really necessary.

He tried to sound diplomatic.

Americana turned and fixed him with an unnerving smile.

Americana
No, it wasn't. But it sent a message.

She was nearly half an inch taller than he was, dressed in a red, white and blue outfit that made her look something like a demented brunette cheerleader from some Fourth of July football game. A bionically augmented cheerleader who could lift the team bus over her head and vaporise the opposing team with arm-mounted energy blasters.

Splendid Man's plain green body armour and black cape and cowl looked drab in comparison, which was fine with him, since it meant he tended to draw less fire. Of course with her take-no-prisoners, destroy-everything-in-sight philosophy, it didn't make much difference anyway.

Americana
It's important to remember, Splendid Man, that when dealing with terrorists, violence is the only message they understand. Not mercy, not threats, not jail time, just straight, animalistic brutality.

Splendid Man just nodded. He'd gotten tired of arguing with her. And he was starting to think that it would be wise to stay on her good side.

Presuming she had one.

Splendid Man
Well... I don't suppose there's anything left for us to do here until the police arrive. Maybe go around and, uh, administer first aid...

Americana
The police won't be coming.

Splendid Man
No? Why not? Last night Detective Baker --

Americana
I touched base with Baker this morning, and told him that a federal agency would be taking over the case.

Splendid Man felt his blood pressure rising.

Splendid Man
That's the first I've heard of it. Why didn't you mention this earlier? What federal agency?

Americana
I didn't tell you because I couldn't until it was absolutely necessary. And I still can't tell you what agency. Sorry, Bruno.

Splendid Man
So what happens to these guys, then?

Americana
They'll be taken into custody. As will the drugs, the funny money, and the ship. Hang on...

She glanced down at her utility belt, and thumbed a button on what he presumed was a pager.

Americana
Their agents are ready to come aboard. If you'd mind waiting for me back on the dock?

Splendid Man
No, of course not. Why would I mind?

He spoke through clenched teeth. Americana looked at him sympathetically.

Americana
Sorry, Splendid Man, I know it's a bitch having to give up a case like this. But this is a Homeland Security matter. You know it's important to --

Splendid Man
Yes, yes, "The War on Terror", I know.

Americana
Hey --

She laid a hand on his shoulder.

Americana
You did some good work today. I mean it. We've won an important battle, thanks to you. The people of Seattle will breath easier a lot easier.

Splendid Man
That is my job...

Americana
Of course it is. Look, I have to let these G-men on board, then what do you say I buy you lunch?

Splendid Man
Okay. Thanks.

Americana
Great. Look, lighten up! We're the good guys! We won, remember?

He glanced at the immobile form on the other side of the hold.

Splendid Man
Right. We won. And I couldn't have done it without you.

Trouble Brewing in America's Percolator!

Who is the mysterious "Referee X"? Are Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy walking into a trap? Did Reaper bring them back any cool souvenirs? Will Americana find a way to turn the Space Needle into a giant robot dinosaur? Well, no, but she's up to something.

Find out what in Part II of...

Death Takes a Latté

Say it with me! Same Hydrogen Time... Same Hydrogen Website!