Episode 43

Vengeance Out of America - Part I

... from the Files of Hydrogen Guy

12:05 AM EST, March 31st, 2001
FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.

In a deserted third floor hallway, a ceiling panel is pushed aside and the business end of a monoplanar scythe is lowered to the ground. A black-robed figure drops down silently a second later, using the scythe to control his fall. Next he uses it to nudge the dislodged ceiling panel back into place.

Reaper looks up and down the partly lit hallway. He checks a nearby room number with the map in his head; he wants the office two doors down. As silent as a mortal spirit he makes his way down the hall, and in a heartbeat has the office door open. He steps inside and quietly closes the door behind him.

The room is dark and musty, lit only by stray street light through the cracks in the blinds. To the Minion of Death, however, light is just a formality. He surveys the room. It is in a state beyond cluttered - piles of file folders and newspaper clippings are scattered across nearly every available surface, with dirty plates, empty snack food packaging and soda cans taking up the slack. The walls are covered in blurry newspaper photographs from daily back-pages and obscure journals, cultish posters, and computer printouts. The place speaks of a methodical, single-minded, and eccentric occupant.

Said occupant had vacated a scant fifteen minutes before, called across town on a wild-goose chase. A half-finished cup of coffee is still lukewarm. Beside it, conveniently, is the CD-ROM that Reaper is seeking. He pockets it and boots up the computer, carefully muffling the start-up chime by stuffing his robe in front of the speaker. A few minutes searching reveals the CD's former owner hadn't yet copied the contents onto his hard-drive, or emailed any of its files to anyone outside. He had, however, copied it to a tape drive. The tape was not in the drive. Had it been taken somewhere? No, luckily it was elsewhere on the desk, marked with his partner's name. It was not likely he had shared any of the data with his superiors, then, if he'd yet to show his partner. They were largely uninterested in his work, anyway.

Reaper covers his tracks and shuts the machine down. He briefly considers wiping the hard-drive, but rejects the idea. As it was, when the office's occupant came back, the only evidence he would have that anyone had been here would be the data's absence. And he would have no evidence at all that it had ever been in his possession.

The beam of a flashlight plays across the glass in the door, but by the time the watchmen walks by the office is empty. Outside, Reaper drops from the window ledge three stories to the bushes below, landing lightly on all fours like a cat, the scythe slung across his back. He feels no discomfort from the incredible fall, just a mild stinging on his bare palms. One of many advantages of physical conditioning that borders on the supernatural.

Darting through shrubs, behind parked cars, posts and other obstacles, he is quickly away from the FBI building. Traveling through the back-alleys, up and down drainpipes and fire escapes, and across rooftops, he makes his way to the meeting place - a parking lot not far from the Washington Monument and the famous Reflecting Pool. The client is there, waiting - for a change dressed in subdued civilian clothes, and driving a Lincoln Town Car rather than a conspicuous heavily armed semi rig. Reaper emerges from the shadows a short distance away.

Chuck War
Jack, that you? You get the beer?

Reaper moves out into the open.

Chuck War
Reaper. How'd it go?

Reaper
[confident silence]

Chuck War
No problems?

Reaper
[negative silence]

Chuck War
Was that it, or do we have other stops to make?

Reaper shakes his head. He reaches into his cloak and produces the CD and the backup tape.

They freeze in place as they are blinded by a spotlight. They look up in surprise. A cold female voice tells them to drop their weapons.

Chuck War
Aw, hell.

The light dips slightly and starts bobbing towards them, and they're able to see their antagonist. She is wearing a form-fitting exo-skeleton, decorated in a patriotic red-white-and-blue stars and stripes design. A red cape falls to just above her knees. She is a brown-haired woman, possibly in her mid-thirties. She stares coldly and unwaveringly at them behind a blue and white eye-mask, in one hand aiming a powerful hand-lamp at their chests, and pointing the other fist directly at them. Chuck thinks he recognizes an arm-mounted energy blaster through the lamp's glare.

Americana
I believe what you gentlemen have is U.S. government property.

Chuck War slowly reaches for his coat pocket.

Americana
Careful!

Chuck War
Easy, I'm unarmed. With your implants, you have a faster trigger than any muggle quick-draw, anyway.

He carefully pulls his wallet from his pocket and flips it open, revealing his Galactic Customs and Canadian League of Heroes ID's.

Chuck War
I'm acting on behalf of Galactic Customs. What we have here is evidence of --

Americana
I know who you are, War. And I don't recognize any authority higher than the Government of the United States of America, especially when it comes to burgling FBI headquarters.

Chuck War slides his wallet back into his pocket, rattling his car-keys. Reaper stands rigidly still beside him, tightly clutching the CD and backup tape; his scythe is still slung across his back, but he is tense and ready to draw at a millisecond's notice.

Americana
Actually, I should thank your friend. I understand certain higher-ups wanted that data liberated from the good agent anyway, and you've saved them the trouble. Now hand it over and I'll save you some trouble.

Reaper
[defiant silence]

Chuck War
You mean you'll let us go?

Americana
I mean I'll arrest you without getting rough.

Chuck War fingers his keys idly.

Chuck War
The U.S. has always cooperated with G.C.'s policy of limiting off-world contamination. I should think your "higher-ups" --

Americana
What they want with it is their business. Right now I trust them a lot more than I trust you or Galactic Customs. And let's see that hand again now.

Chuck War grins and pulls his car keys from his pocket. He holds them up by the car alarm remote keychain.

Chuck War
Whatever you say.

He presses the centre button. The car's headlights flare and the engine roars to life. The car shifts into gear automatically, and the wheels squeal. Americana fires a blast of blue energy as Chuck War, the car and Reaper fly in three different directions at once. The blast sizzles past the door of the car, which is spinning in a tight turn, driverless, around the parking lot.

Reaper launches himself at her, scythe in hand. She somersaults over him, again lining up a shot at Chuck War, who narrowly dodged the first blast and is now readying himself to jump for the car as he directs it with the mini-control to circle around. The car comes between him and Americana just as she fires. He mumbles an unheard one-liner about losing his damage deposit as he wrenches the door of the moving car open and dives inelegantly inside.

Reaper swings his weapon at Americana. She blocks the shaft with her left arm, simultaneously blinding him with the hand lamp. She takes the opportunity to deliver a pneumatically-enhanced kick to Reaper's midriff, sending him tumbling. She discards the lamp and spins, searching for the car with both arm-blasters. Chuck, now driving the old-fashioned way, wheels around her, ducking behind the barely-adequate cover of the driver's side door as she fires two shots. He floors the accelerator and drives straight at her. She leaps over the car lengthwise, and Chuck suddenly has to swerve to avoid the still prostrate Reaper. His concern is alleviated as a split second later, the blade of Reaper's scythe crashes through the moving car's passenger window, and he hears Reaper pull himself up onto the car's roof. Next he hears the sounds of energy blasts deflecting off the scythe's blade as he exits the parking lot at top speed.

Chuck War
Reaper! Get in the car! Get INSIDE the damn car!

Somehow Reaper manages to stay standing on top of the car as Chuck War weaves through sparse traffic, with Americana swooping and diving around him, trying to knock him off (or worst) with her energy blasters. She is flying with the assistance of a small jetpack concealed beneath her cape.

Reaper swipes at her each time she draws near, but she stays out of reach.

Chuck War
Reaper! Heads up!

Reaper glances over his shoulder - the car is rapidly approaching an overpass. A plan suggests itself. Americana fires again, and this time he deflects with too close a margin. He starts to tumble off the roof, and Americana draws closer to intercept his fall.

He strikes out with the scythe just as she comes within reach, tearing through her cape and hitting the jetpack. Americana screams with alarm, and Reaper shoves her away. He flattens himself on the roof just as they reach the overpass.

Emerging on the other side, Reaper slips in through the broken window. He settles into the passenger seat, picking glass out of his robes.

Chuck War
That did not win you any fans.

Reaper
[peevish silence]

Chuck War
Yeah, yeah. It did the trick. We'd better back to the Rig and make for the border quick before she gets on our tail again. You still have --

Reaper pulls the tape and CD from his robes. The cases are shattered, but the CD is intact.

Chuck War
You're the man, Reaper. I owe you one.

Reaper
[hinting silence]

Chuck War
We are not getting drive-through.

She hit the pavement with a bone-shattering force. A car horn blared, breaks screeched and then --

CRUNCH!

The car hit her and dragged her several meters before coming to a halt. The driver sits in the car, shocked.

Driver
Oh my God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...

Slowly he unclenches his fists from the wheel. He fumbles with the seatbelt clasp, flings open the door and stumbles out.

Driver
H-hello?

Slowly, a bloodied hand reaches out from underneath the car. The driver rushes to assist. Gradually, the woman crawls out from under the car. Americana's costume is in shreds, covered in blood and dirt. A large part of her flesh is similarly tattered; one arm has most of the surface scraped off, revealing damaged metal and plastic implants amoung the burned and oozing flesh. The partly-smashed jet on her back is still smoking.

The driver is shocked as she gets to her feet. With a grimace of intense pain she manages to stand straight. Her most-damaged arm hangs limp at her side at a slightly unhealthy angle.

Driver
Good God, Americana! I'm s-s-so sorry! You're h-hurt, we have to -- URK!

Her good hand grabs him by the throat and lifts him off his feet. His eyes bug out as he struggles and gasps, then his neck snaps with a sickening crunch. Americana hurls him back in the car.

Americana
God damned tailgaters.

She absently wipes a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and staggers off into the darkness.

7:30 PM PST, April 2nd
The Hydrogen Cave, Maple Ridge, British Columbia

The doors to the Hydrogen Elevator slide open cheerfully and silently. Hydrogen Guy strides into the Cave's central chamber, followed by the Codger.

Hydrogen Guy
And voila!

Codger
Hrmph. Not bad. A damned sight better without the piles of rock covering everything.

Hydrogen Guy
Everything's brand-spanking new. New furniture, new fixtures, new ceiling - a couple feet higher, thanks to Battle Armor Bob [see ep. 34] - new EOB 9000 Crime Computer - okay, the computer's used, but we got a great deal on it.

Codger
And it only took three months. How much'd all this cost?

Hydrogen Guy wilts.

Hydrogen Guy
A lot. Insurance only covered 25%. We had to sell the Hydrogen Sub.

Codger
You sold it? Who in Moses' name would buy it?!

"Dude! A nuclear submarine?"

"It's a fixer-upper."

"Pretty neat. I can hardly wait to shoot nerd-boy out the torpedo tube."

"Are those giant squid-marks?"

*poing* "OOOH! Pretty colours!" *poing*

"Hey, how are you gonna get it into the water? It's way too big to tow with the truck, and we're miles from the ocean."

"... ... let me check my notes ..."

Hydrogen Guy
Anyway, even so I didn't get what we paid for it. We had to make a few extra deals to cover the slack... DB! You around?

Deuterium Boy
Over here...

Hydrogen Guy and the Codger head over to the other side of the living area, where Deuterium Boy is sitting hunched over a personal computer.

Hydrogen Guy
Ah, you're playing the Game!

Deuterium Boy
Uh-huh.

On screen, a polygonally-rendered Deuterium Boy is doing battle with a small horde of killer robots.

Codger
What? You mean you let them make a computer game out of you two?

Hydrogen Guy
Yeah - "Hydrogen Cave: Elemental Fury", by Sandstorm Software. They offered us a gob of money for the rights, plus a cut of the profit, and so being practical defenders of Justice, we went for it. They sent us a beta last week. Your verdict, DB?

Deuterium Boy
Involving story, nice game play, decent cut scenes. The graphics aren't cutting edge, but Helium Girl's breasts give Lara Croft a run for her money.

Hydrogen Guy
And really, what more can you ask of a game?

Codger
Mother Mary on a bicycle... You risk your darned fool lives as superheroes, and then in your spare time you play yourself in a computer game. You kids need to get out more.

Deuterium Boy
Yeah, but if I die in the game, all I have to do is go back to the last save point.

Hydrogen Guy
Have you played me yet?

Deuterium Boy
Why would I want to play you?

Hydrogen Guy
What you say!

Deuterium Boy
Your character's pretty lame. I mean, you don't get the Ruler of Elendil until level two, and without it you're pretty much useless.

Hydrogen Guy
Thanks a lot.

Deuterium Boy
Don't take it personally! Play it yourself, if you're so curious.

Hydrogen Guy
You know I suck at anything more complicated than "Minesweeper".

Deuterium Boy
I've seen your "Minesweeper" scores, you suck at that, too.

The Codger peers intently through his bifocals over Deuterium Boy's shoulder.

Codger
What the hell's the idea behind this thing, anyway?

Deuterium Boy
In a nutshell, the Crustacean ransacks the Hydrogen Cave and uses all of our best toys against us, and there's this army of killer robots. We have to defeat the robots, get our stuff back, and then beat the Crustacean.

Codger
Huh. Too chicken to use a live villain, were they?

Hydrogen Guy
Yeah, they figured that using the Crustacean as the villain would be pretty safe. He's dead, so he can't sue them or mark them for assassination.

Deuterium Boy
Yeah. Good thing the Crustacean is dead, or there'd be a whole world of trouble for everybody.

Hydrogen Guy
You can say that again, DB. But we don't have to worry, because he is dead, and if there's one thing that's sure in this crazy life, it's that nobody comes back from the dead.

Codger
Are you two done?

Deuterium Boy
Done what?

Codger
Forget it.

Hydrogen Guy
Can I get you some tea, Gramps?

Codger
Sure. Better make it herbal, my constitution ain't what it used to be.

Hydrogen Guys makes his way to the kitchen. The Codger stays and watches Deuterium Boy play.

beedleedleedleedleedleedleedl! beedleedleedleedleedleedleedl!

Deuterium Boy
Super-secret Hydrogen Phone!

Hydrogen Guy
I'll get it. DB, turn the game down, will you?

He walks over to the flashing red phone on the wall, and flicks on the speaker phone.

Hydrogen Guy
Hai!

Chuck War
HG, it's Chuck War!

Hydrogen Guy
Hey, Chuck.

Deuterium Boy
Hi Chuck!

Chuck War
HG, I need you two to meet Reaper and I in Avalon, ASAP.

Hydrogen Guy
Avalon?

Chuck War
Ontario, south of Ottawa?

Hydrogen Guy
Right, right... should I ask what you and Reaper are doing there?

Chuck War
No. Can you make it?

Hydrogen Guy
I don't know, Chuck, it is a school night.

Chuck War
I'm serious. G.C.'s left me in the lurch again and I've got the archetypal psycho-hose beast breathing down my neck. I need some back-up.

Hydrogen Guy
Sure thing, we'll hop a De Broglie board and be there before we left.

Chuck War
Meet us at Tim Horton's in half an hour. War out.

He breaks the connection and Hydrogen Guy hangs up the phone.

Hydrogen Guy
De Broglie board time, DB.

Deuterium Boy
Just let me reach the save point.

Hydrogen Guy raises an eyebrow.

Deuterium Boy
It's just one room away!

Hydrogen Guy
[to the Codger] Sorry, Gramps. I'll have to owe you the tea.

Codger
Don't worry about it. Go, don't get yourself killed.

He yanks the PC's power bar out of the wall socket. The screen goes dark.

Deuterium Boy
HEY!

Codger
Get over it.

10:45 PM EST,
Tim Horton's Doughnuts, Avalon, Ontario

For a split second , two spectacular special effects brighten up the empty parking lot. When it's over, the parking lot is empty no more. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy step off their thematically coloured surfboards and take a look around. There isn't that much to see. The street is deserted. Not much else is nearby, except for a gas station across the street and the faint glow of Avalon's "downtown" in the distance. The rest is mainly thin forest and bush. A green highway sign pointing to provincial routes 7 and 41 is visible a few meters from the gas station.

Deuterium Boy
Well, this is pretty much the middle of nowhere.

Hydrogen Guy
It's small-town Ontario, welcome to it... something tells me "middle of nowhere" was exactly what Chuck was going for. Let's go in and sample the hot chocolate, shall we?

Deuterium Boy
Sure.

They walk inside the Tim Horton's, identical inside to any from here to Maple Ridge. Most of the tables are empty - one is occupied by two men who appear to be long distance truckers, another by a group of teenagers. The girl behind the counter, dressed in the usual TH brown and white, has reddish-auburn hair in a thick braid, which is pulled up awkwardly in a hair net. She raises a sardonic eyebrow as the Diatomic Duo approach the counter.

Deirdre
If you're looking for the beach, you're a few hundred kilometers off target.

Hydrogen Guy
Huh?

Deirdre
You're carrying surfboards.

Hydrogen Guy
Oh, these. It's complicated.

Deirdre
I'll bet. What can I get for you?

Hydrogen Guy
Just about anything.

Deirdre
Excuse me?

Deuterium Boy
Two large hot chocolates, please.

Deirdre
Right... $5.50.

Hydrogen Guy forks over the needful.

Deirdre
So, what exactly is up with those outfits? If you don't mind my asking.

Hydrogen Guy
Allow me to introduce ourselves. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy, at your service.

Deirdre
Huh. Oh, yeah, that's right, I recognize it -- my little sister reads those comics. Those are pretty good costumes. Where's the party?

Hydrogen Guy
No, no, Ms...?

Deirdre
Bradley.

Hydrogen Guy
Ms. Bradley, we are Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy. The genuine articles, in the flesh.

Deirdre
Uh huh. And I'm Captain Toronto. Here's your hot chocolates.

Hydrogen Guy
I'm serious! We --

Deuterium Boy
Drop it.

He picks up his hot chocolate and walks away. Hydrogen Guy stands perplexed for a moment, then picks up his drink and follows.

Deirdre
Have a nice night, "Hydrogen Guy".

Hydrogen Guy
Uh... you too. DB!

He catches up to his partner, who is trying to discreetly look for Chuck War and Reaper, and failing.

Deuterium Boy
She's at least five years too young for you.

Hydrogen Guy
I resent your implication.

Deuterium Boy
Do you see Chuck and Reaper?

The two truckers are staring at them, mouths agape. The teenagers are watching them and giggling.

Hydrogen Guy
Wait, there's Chuck at the back.

They head for the back of the store, where Chuck War, still in civilian clothes, is holding his head in his hands. Sitting with his back to them is a stranger in jeans, a blue hooded sweater and Maple Leafs cap. The stranger turns to look at them, and to their surprise, Reaper's pale, gaunt face is doing the looking.

Hydrogen Guy
Hey, Chuck. Reaper, nice duds.

Chuck War
Jeez, you guys -- couldn't you have worn something a little less obvious? I didn't want to attract any attention. You should know small-town folks aren't as nonchalant about superheroes as people in Maple Ridge.

Hydrogen Guy
Sorry, Chuck. I didn't think of that.

Deuterium Boy
I'm sure HG drooling over the doughnut girl didn't help matters, either.

Hydrogen Guy
Will you drop it, already?

Reaper
[disapproving silence]

They lean the De Broglie boards against the wall and sit down, Hydrogen Guy next to Chuck War and Deuterium Boy beside Reaper.

Hydrogen Guy
Enough suspense, Chuck. What's going on? Why are we here?

Chuck War pushes a newspaper towards them. It is "USA Today" and the headline reads "Super-Terrorists Kill DC Motorist".

Chuck War
In a nutshell - Americana.

Hydrogen Guy
She's the psycho-hose beast you mentioned? Ouch!

Deuterium Boy
[points to paper] What's this about?

Chuck War
I haven't a clue. It claims that we killed this guy while Americana was chasing us. I don't know how the guy died, but I'll bet she's responsible for trying to pin it on us.

Hydrogen Guy turns to page two. He skims the article, which is accompanied by two police sketches. One, just an ominous black hood, is obviously Reaper; the other is a savage caricature vaguely resembling Chuck.

Hydrogen Guy
It says she caught you breaking into FBI headquarters?

Chuck War
I asked Reaper to be my fill-in MIB and lift some computer data. She apparently followed Reaper back and we've been on the run from her since. I think we lost her for the moment.

Reaper
[self-recriminating silence]

Chuck War
It's not your fault, Reaper. You're as close to invisible as you can get in the shadows. I don't know how we could have avoided it. I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this.

Deuterium Boy
What kind of data was it?

Chuck War
Sorry, I can't say. G.C. business.

Hydrogen Guy
Alien autopsies or something?

Chuck War
Suit yourself. I think Americana was going after it herself on behalf of someone in the U.S. government.

Deuterium Boy
And you can't just pass it off to G.C.?

Chuck War scowls.

Chuck War
Some over-fed merchant on the Trans-Sirian trade route is convinced he's being stocked by pirates, so G.C. pulled all my off-planet support. I basically have to sit on this stuff until someone decides it's worth picking up.

Hydrogen Guy
Be careful - Americana will stop at nothing to get what she's after.

Chuck War
Yeah, I know.

Reaper
[inquisitive "Who is this Americana bird, anyway?" silence]

Chuck War
Long story...

Once there was a guy from Washington, DC named Steve Dandey. But the world knew him as Yankee Doodle Dandy - he dressed in this garish red, white and blue colonial outfit, powdered wig and everything. The Dandy was a light-hearted, patriotic guy - defender of the downtrodden, champion of justice and freedom, always cracking jokes - a lot like yourself, HG. He had a classic story - Steve was just a regular joe, until Coyote, the Native American trickster spirit, gave him special powers.

Yankee Doodle Dandy was an amazing guy - amazing, HG. He was bigger than life, like a superhero should be. He set the standard in the 60's and 70's. A lot of folks say it was him, not that reporter, who really blew the lid off Watergate. And do you know, I don't think he even ever wounded anyone?

And man, the villains he attracted! What a crew - the Serpent, Vampestra, the Grey Gremlin, Jack Knife, Dr. Weird, and his arch-enemy the Red Coat - Coyote's OTHER chosen. Wow, the stuff they used to get up to. There was the time Dr. Weird and the Red Coat teamed up and stole this jewel - ah, skip it. I could tell you guys Dandy stories all night if you let me. When I was ten, the Dandy was my hero. I grew up in Windsor, right across the river from Detroit, so we kids dug the American heroes more than the Canadian ones. Used to root for the Red Wings 'stead of the Leafs, too.

Anyway, Yankee Doodle Dandy was the best, and a really decent guy. He didn't deserve what happened to him. It was in 1980, this East German calling himself "Demokrat" challenged the Dandy to a fight. Some official "hero" of the Communist party. The Dandy should have said no, but the creep made it so he had to fight him. Well, Dandy gave it everything he had, but the goon killed him. They didn't let him get away with it, but it was too late.

"What happened to Demokrat?"

The ironic thing was - it was the Red Coat who killed Demokrat. Said afterward that without his old adversary, he was nothing. Then with one last "Cheerio, colonists," he just disappeared. See, Coyote created the Dandy and Red Coat at the same time, as two sides of a coin, good and evil. I think it was some kind of elaborate joke on the white man. With the Dandy dead, Coyote's spell was broken. Most people think Red Coat probably lost his powers after Dandy was avenged. Damn, I'm getting off the point again...

Well, it turns out Steve Dandey had a wife and daughter. I guess the girl was about fifteen when he died. The girl swore vengeance, vowed to carry on where her father left off. She dropped out of school and started training as a crime fighter. Later she had herself bionically enhanced to bring herself artificially up to her Dad's power levels. I guess Coyote won't have anything to do with her. Can't say I blame it.

See, the trouble is the Dandy wasn't a vengeful guy. Americana is. She has none of her Dad's warmth or sense of humour, and she doesn't trust any hero who isn't American. She's done some things off U.S. soil that'd put her firmly on the villain side of the ledger. She emerged as a force to be reckoned with in the early 90's, and finished off all of her Dad's adversaries that were still around in a pretty dramatic way. That got her a lot of attention. I think a lot of the other American superheroes are scared of her, not that they'd admit it to an outsider. But still, she's really popular with a lot of the U.S. population.

"Yeah, but so's Regis."

Deuterium Boy
You still haven't told us what you're doing here.

Hydrogen Guy
Yeah. The safest place in the country for that stuff would be at League of Heroes national headquarters. Prodigio's discreet, the place is built like a fortress and Cap'n T and the Boys are more than a match for Americana single-handed.

Deuterium Boy
And if I remember my geography, Toronto is actually a lot closer to D.C. than we are now.

Hydrogen Guy
You just wanted to make our lives difficult, didn't you?

Chuck War
Yeah, it's all about you. I had several good reasons for not going to Toronto - number one, that's exactly where she'd expect us to go. By taking the long route, I managed to shake her, at least for now. Number two - Americana would follow me to Toronto, no doubt about that, and she'd try to get the data out one way or another. Captain Toronto and Americana have some kind of understanding with one another, I'm not sure how that face-off would play out. Not to mention, if one of the U.S.A's top superheroes attacked the League of Heroes National HQ, the political implications could be incredible.

Hydrogen Guy
Oooh. I'm picturing that. It isn't pretty.

Deuterium Boy
But the would other U.S. heroes support her? She's a whack job.

Chuck War
I don't know. I don't want to be the test case, okay?

Hydrogen Guy
Well, you should have thought of that before M.C. Spooky here burgled G Man Central.

Reaper
[defensive silence]

Chuck War
I'm just trying to do my job here, okay?

Hydrogen Guy
No offense, Chuck, it's just a big mess, that's all I'm saying.

Chuck War
Anyway -- reason number three: the last thing Toronto needs is another super-powered showdown. They're still licking their wounds after Firestorm.

Deuterium Boy
Point taken.

Chuck War
And number four, Reaper was navigating and can't read maps worth a stuffed baboon.

Reaper
[irritated "you know, I so do not need this" silence]

Hydrogen Guy
It's okay, Reaper. It's an acquired skill... Don't worry, Chuck, you can count on us.

Deuterium Boy
You've helped us out enough times, we owe you one.

Chuck War
You owe me many.

Hydrogen Guy
And I get the feeling you're going to cash them all in very soon. Okay, so what's the plan?

Chuck War pulls the familiar CD jewel case and back-up tape from his jacket pocket.

Chuck War
This is tape and CD that held the data. They've been completely wiped and rewritten with random noise. The data I downloaded into a secure G.C. hard-storage cube and buried in a graveyard in Vermont.

Hydrogen Guy
Have you got a treasure map?

Chuck War
No. The data's safe, so now I just have to lead Americana on a wild goose chase until G.C. tells me they've retrieved it. I'd like you guys along for the ride in case it gets rough.

Deuterium Boy
I don't think anyone's called on us as muscle before.

Hydrogen Guy
Maybe he's counting on our zany antics to distract her.

Chuck War
Mainly I'm just glad to have someone along who can read a map.

Reaper
[glares]

Hydrogen Guy finishes his hot chocolate and puts the empty cup down decisively.

Hydrogen Guy
Okay. I've got an idea. We'll head for Ottawa, and we can set up in the Navy Blue Sparrow's old nest. We'll call in a couple of reservists, and if the Red-White-and-Blue Witch shows up, we'll be ready.

Chuck War
Great. I'm getting tired of driving all over the country, anyway.

He pockets the worthless tape and CD and gets up from the table. The others follow suit.

Deuterium Boy
Where's the War Rig?

Chuck War
Down the road, parked behind some trees. I didn't want the thermal warheads to scare the locals.

As they make their way out, the girl behind the counter calls out to them.

Deirdre
'Night, you guys. Give my regards to Sporkman.

Hydrogen Guy
Ha ha ha... trust me, Ms. Bradley, I never fraternize with characters from web comics.

They emerge into the parking lot, as still and deserted as when they arrived. Chuck War leads the way, turning right onto the road and heading away from town. The air is chilled and crisp, April being the height of spring on the West Coast but still the tail of winter here.

The four walk silently until they are about a block away from Tim Horton's. Hydrogen Guy perks up his ears.

Hydrogen Guy
What's that?

Deuterium Boy
What?

Hydrogen Guy
It sounded like something powering up...

Chuck War whirls around in alarm.

Chuck War
GET DOWN!

Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy move with hyper-atomic speed, narrowly avoiding the blinding blue plasma blast. The shot blows a pothole in the road.

Chuck War pulls a handgun from his jacket and returns fire. Hydrogen Guy and Deuterium Boy haul themselves out of their ditch, and are nearly blinded by the barrage of red lasers and blue plasma blasts.

Hydrogen Guy
What the --

Deuterium Boy
Holy Pearl Harbour, Hydrogen Guy! It's Americana!

Americana
Surrender the data, War - or be terminated with extreme prejudice!

Caught! Is it game over for Chuck War? Can the Diatomic Duo sort this mess out before Americana parts Chuck's hair with her blaster? Will she listen to reason, or is she really a violent psychopath? Find out in part II of...

Vengeance Out of America